The Games We Play
by spideydance
Summary: Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget.
1. Prologue

Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

DISCLAIMER: Again, I don't own Final Fantasy XII or any of its characters or anything in it. All of it is owned by Square Enix. The only character I own is Anastacia, an OC.

Heeeeeeey everyone! Sorry I've been gone so long. I'd actually almost finished the next chapter last year (a month after I posted the latest chapter), but I accidentally deleted it (DON'T ASK. UGH.) and after many days of sobbing, I continued to write. A friend of mine, however, insisted that I revise it, so I decided to. Just now. Because I admit that I did get lazy. So we're starting from the start! Which is the prologue, the..thing even before the start. Yes.

But don't worry! I won't COMPLETELY revise the story. In fact, most of the parts I liked from the old story that I'd written and published here are going to stay. I'm just going to remove a few things that were awful and hopefully add better things to the old chapters, so you'll still see some of the old stuff. Just make sure to watch out for the new ones! Read on and enjoy (I hope XD)! :)

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**Prologue**

The silence in Marquis Halim Ondore IV's office was torturing. No matter if the Bhujerban sky was blue and the sun was shining through his windows, pushing through even the thick Rozarrian curtains and bouncing off the walls and crystals of the room to create an array of shapes and colors. The weather in contrast to the estate's current mood especially weighed down his young guest, who had not once been fond of keeping quiet.

Anastacia never was good at the 'waiting' game. Over the past week spent in Bhujerba, she had gotten into innumerable quarrels with her Uncle Halim's Rev guards due to her inability to overcome the desire to reach up from behind them and tug at their ears. She'd found it so fascinating, so entertaining how their race, always serious and taciturn, could have ears as tender and furry as those of adorable little Moogles. It was so...distracting.

Although she wouldn't admit it (it is unsure as to whether she even knew it), Anastacia only engaged in such mischief in an attempt to forget about how she had abandoned her sister in her greatest time of need. Ashelia was the one who forced her to get out of Dalmasca and stay in Bhujerba, yes, but it was her own fault she allowed it to happen. Ugh. She began to feel something clog dancing on her right temple and shook her head, hoping it would go away and drag any thoughts of Dalmasca along with it.

Echoes of the Marquis's footsteps accented with the sound of his cane against the floor resounded as he stopped pacing his office for a moment and stopped to lean on his cane. He looked down at his sixteen year-old godchild, sitting on the floor and fiddling with an already wrinkled dress with her head shaking while bowed, and said, "Keep calm, Anastacia. Have hope."

What a half-lie that was, thought the princess of Nabradia, returning only a half-smile to her godfather. One needn't be a political genius to know that the day King Raminas set out for Nalbina to sign Archadia's alleged peace treaty was the day he set out to sign his and his country's death sentence. Nalbina...she always used to find Rasler secretly (secretly in the way that everyone knew about it) meeting Ashelia there, when she'd come from Dalmasca and he from Nabradia. The memory, too, of how a bright mushroom cloud in the northern distance had informed her of precisely how her country fell came back to her, but she wasn't allowed to tell anyone who wasn't of the Nabradian royal family.

Rasler's death ensured her position as the last Nabradian royal.

Wait, no. She was the last Nabradian– the Archadians arranged that.

Anastacia couldn't believe how jealous she was of everyone who was already playing that other game with Rasler, her father, and her mother. Who gave _them_ the right to die? Why did she have to be in Castle Rabanastre, waiting for a captain who, in all probability, didn't even remember her after giving her so much hope, and who, in his long disappearance, made her hope for that great wave of power gifted from the gods, that tide of destruction, to come and take her, too?

The tall doors of Halim Ondore's office burst wide open. One of the _Parijanah_ rushed in, a scroll nearly crushed in his fist. He bowed before the Marquis and his guest, but the Marquis brushed his formalities off with a dismissive wave of his hand. Halim approached him as quickly as he could and snatched the small piece of paper withholding the fate of Ivalice. The _Sainikah_ outside the office, Anastacia, and her uncle's Rev guards all held their breaths for the Marquis to utter something, anything that would tell them there was still something to hold on to in the west.

"_Kastam..._"

Anastacia's heart sank, but with the last ounce of hope in her she stood and asked, as Halim's goddaughter and not his subject, "What of Ashelia? You _will_ send an airship to escort her here, will you not?"

Halim Ondore closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Why...? Why not, Uncle? Are there no airships available? I will take my own, and I-"

"No, Lady Anastacia." Halim replied, as the Marquis and not her Uncle who spoiled her and played games with her as a child. He stared down at her, a hard look reflected in his grey eyes; it was a sorrowful sort of glare he had never shown her before. "Princess Ashelia," he read, the gravity in his voice mortifying all those listening, "in agony of her father's death, has taken her own life. Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg is guilty of the assassination of King Raminas and has been...put to death."

Her arms fell limp as she stared back into the Marquis's eyes. Involuntarily taking a step back, she tried to hold her ground, but her knees buckled, and now no one rushed to catch her. Anastacia's misting eyes and quivering lip, which she tried to hide to herself, could not move even her Uncle into withdrawing his statement. He simply dismissed the messenger, slipped the scroll into Anastacia's hand, and slowly walked back to his desk.

It couldn't be. It was impossible. Ashelia was the strong one. Despite everything that happened to her, though her plight was just a little less awful than Anastacia's, she would never weaken. Ashelia played the game of waiting with her in Rabanastre and promised they would continue to together no matter how far away they were from each other. She couldn't have just quit on her! And Basch...Captain Basch! His loyalty to King Raminas was so unfathomably great that he put up with the King's niece and spoke clearly to her when all the others spoke falsities and would call her a fool. It wasn't his game to lie or pretend!

"No."

"What is it, Lady Anastacia?" he asked, facing her once more.

"NO!" Anastacia hurled the scroll containing the _lies_ at the Marquis and hit him square in the nose. His Rev guards moved forward to detain her, but the Marquis stopped them. Anastacia continued. "Captain Basch would never do anything to betray Dalmasca. Ashelia...she would never give upon a game with _me_! You lie! You lie, Uncle! Why? They're not dead!"

One of Halim's Rev guards could foresee the princess breaking down again and causing another ruckus. "My lord?"

Halim sighed, once again becoming her godfather. "Dear niece, did you not give the same reaction to Rasler's death? Yet you now acknowledge it...give it time." He neared her and bent down, squeezing her shoulder. "Someday, I, too, will be gone, and all I own now will become yours. What then will you-"

"Be quiet!" yelled Anastacia, removing his hand from her person and standing. Since her outburst in Rabanastre's great Cathedral, only he, King Raminas, and Ashelia had not considered her an imbecile. Now that he was the last of them left, did he realize that everyone else was correct? That from being the blithe daughter of the great Nabradian monarchs, she had become the deranged princess of a fallen kingdom? "This is an awful game...Call it over, uncle! Stop treating me like a fool...I beg you, do not proclaim the contents of that document true. Please, uncle! Promise me you'll never read that scroll before anyone else again!"

"Calm yourself, Anastacia," said the Marquis of Bhujerba, saying nothing to appease her. "And enough of these games; we must face the truth. Mourn you may, but you shall move on. Under the alliance between Nabradia and Dalmasca, you are now Dalmasca's queen. There is still hope. We can still repossess the lands of Nabradia. You shall meet with the emperor of Rozarria as soon as possible. He has an unmarried son, not the crown prince, only five years your senior, Al--"

"You're heartless...my godfather has become as Archadia's Emperor, callous to the death of his beloved!" said Anastacia, a hint of laughter in her voice. She repeated her last statement and this time laughed outwardly, tears forming in her eyes, beckoning to a willing sob. Soon she accused the Marquis of other grave things, such as allying himself with her mother's murderers, although no one could hear past her wailing. It would have been laughable to an outside party. The _Parijanah_, the _Sainikah_, Halim's Rev guards and Halim himself, however, now grew afraid. The Marquis had opted to wait for her to simmer down and fall asleep like most infants, but he had forgotten one thing about this infant: she could run.

And she ran out of his office.

His Rev guard's prediction was true. "Follow her," the Marquis said to all who could hear, "disable her if temporarily if you must. Go!"

Tag. She couldn't lose this game.

Racing out of the smothering peaceful hallways of the Ondore estate and out into the freedom of the Bhujerban marketplace, Anastacia looked to her left and right in a panic. The _Sainikah_ were already calling for help from the guards at the front gate and she could barely see! Why were tears so foggy? But she couldn't help it, and tears streamed down her already sticky face as she moved forward, down past a few armories and a magick shop. Weeds growing from the city's ochre brick roads nearly tripped her on her way westward to Miner's End.

"She's not in the skygrounds. Check the inns and the other shops!"

Anastacia gasped and looked back, hoping they wouldn't think to come her wa-- and she had never felt so free, somersaulting into the air...and landing on a suddenly aching back.

"Ugh..." groaned the man she'd run into, standing and smoothing the creases in his long white sleeves. He was in much less pain than she was, yet he complained, "What could you have been in such a hurry for?"

"Forgive me," she muttered in reply, turning around to face him and curling up beside a wall she found. She leaned a tired, throbbing head on it and wiped her eyes. "I'm troubled."

The man huffed, looking down at her disdainfully. "Well, it couldn't have been so...hmmm." he stopped when he noticed the little chain around her sweating neck and the coat of arms on the pendant it carried. "A_ runaway_, eh? How...awkward."

It was then that she raised her head to glare at him, but it was ineffective. She was dried-up, a shriveled seed, her chance to ever grow stolen away by the winters of war. Her stamina was depleted; there was no going on in this game. Perhaps she really only was the deranged princess of a fallen kingdom.

But this man was interesting, she would grant, with his zebra blond hair and his illuminating eyes, his many earrings and the colorful bands around his fingers and wrist. It was obvious in his accent that he wasn't Bhujerban. And he had the most intricate vest! She could stare at it for hours, trying to figure it out without another care in the world...

"I am a runaway," Anastacia admitted.

"And where did you come from?"

"Not far from here, but I'd like to be. May I come with you?"

The man raised his eyebrows. "And be accused of kidnapping a royal? I'd rather not. Now if you'd excuse me, your Royal Highness," he said, with a flourish of his arm and a bow, "I have an important matter to attend to."

Anastacia blinked in surprise until she realized her clothes were an easy giveaway. Where had her pursuers gone? It didn't matter; the man was leaving! She heaved herself up and ran after him.

"Wait! I can...I can feed myself; you won't have to trouble yourself over that. I'm skilled at finding things! I'm small, too, so...so I can slip past many people unnoticed to support myself! Or take things, if you're that kind of person. N-no offense. And once you take me with you, there will be nothing to prove my lineage. Marquis Ondore will be forced to proclaim me lost...and dead, like the rest of my family. Please! And you can have this," she fumbled desperately for her pendant, removed it, and shoved it into the man's hand. "You can sell it for more than a good airship to the Marquis. Just take me with you." Her head spun. What else did she have to say? Why was she even saying this? She had no idea who this man was or what he did, but he was her only hope, it seemed. Leaving this place with him was the only way to keep her already dwindling sanity intact.

Staring at the pendant in his hand, the man sighed. "What an odd company we'll be..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," he muttered, pocketing the pendant, "All right. You can come with us."

"Us?"

"I've a lady waiting in one of the book stores here," he answered, already wondering if bringing her along was the right choice. Then again, she fit their category. Once meant for great things in their homelands, orphans, failures, deserters. "You'll meet her in a moment."

"What's she like?" Anastacia prodded, following him, "Is she pretty? Kind? Do you think she'll like me?"

"Yes, yes, no; stop asking such irrelevant questions. Now, we can't have you going around and announcing your heritage...your name is too unusual. I don't like it. We'll need to give you a new one."

"Well... What name could I use that's not unusual?"

"I was thinking...Anya."

"Anya..." Anastacia tried to smile, but found that she still could not (she'd almost forgotten about her sore eyes and sticky cheeks), so she nodded. "That's a nice name. _Usual_ enough for me. How does it sound to you, sir?"

"It's Balthier," the man corrected her, both displeased and amused by her mockery of him, and shrugged. "And it sounds fine. I thought of it, didn't I? You already looked the part of a vagabond; all I had to do was change your name. Later we'll get rid of that unwieldy little dress..."

Anastacia's face took on a distorted and appalled look. She was about to reply with an unladylike statement (she was a _vagabond_ now, anyway, so there was no need for formalities) when Balthier spoke again.

"Oh, yes. Fran and I have a rule concerning our troupe; I _hope_ you are willing to follow it."

The girl walked ahead of Balthier to fix her tangled hair and, without hiding her suspicion, asked, "What rule is that?"

"Everything you were before you joined us, everything you had...you must forget. You may speak of them one last time before we depart if you wish, but after that, you must forget. Forever." Balthier tilted his head at her as her pace slowed. Had she changed her mind about coming along? "Do you understand?"

Anastacia–no...it was Anya who whirled and stared at her new...friend. On her dry lips and in her swollen eyes, he could see the slightest trace of a smile as she whispered, "I can play that."

"As I thought," Balthier smiled, especially at her wording, and ruffled her hair lightly. "Welcome to the cast, little Anya."

* * *

Hooray, you're still here! I was sure you'd have disappeared by now. THIS time, the 'Anya' as an alias is a definite reference to Anastasia.

_Sainikah_ - Bhujerban word for soldier

_Parijanah_ - Bhujerban word for guide

And yep, this time, Fran doesn't make an appearance in the prologue.

To TGWP's old readers, I hope this prologue sort of clears up why Anya was acting the way she was before (in the old version). I had meant to say why in a later chapter but it seemed to confuse and annoy people who PMed me so much that I decided to just say it when I revised it. Anyway, Anastacia's kind of crazy here because she was kind of crazy in Hide and Seek, but that kookiness of hers (though it was only brought out by Rasler's death) seemed to die out in the old version's prologue, so I decided to add another pinch of lunacy (not that the whole games thing isn't already nuts).

So! As usual, constructive criticism is very much needed and appreciated! If you don't give crit, then just tell me what you liked about it by pressing the little Review button down there. :D To old readers, tell me what you think of the revised one? It killed me to delete the old ones, but I think it was needed. Not that my writing has actually gotten any better, especially since I haven't written in a while...feh.

Annnnyway, thank you so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 1

Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

DISCLAIMER: Copy-paste time! I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything in it. It belongs to the company who made it. The only character I own in this story is Anastacia, an OC.

HELLO, WORLD! Okay, so this whole revision thing isn't working out for me so well. If you will read, and please do, because I've added a bit and changed some of the wording in the story, which is quite crucial to getting the little hints (and the annoyingly blatant ones) that say what's really going on, I've kept some of the old lines. I just really liked some of the things that were said before. But DO read before you judge, please. :D The next chapter will really be revised (if not the script, then the rest of it; I usually keep the script), because it's the chapter I hate the most out of the ones I typed up so far.

Enjoy reading! Instead of placing some explanations of a chapter in the NEXT one like I used to do, I'll put them in the same page as the chapter itself. That is, if I still put explanations. I'm thinking if I still should because a good story shouldn't need to be explained, but who says this is a good story? XD

Aaaaaanyway, read on!

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**Chapter 1  
**

She had always been the one in between.

Always. When they had their quarrels over whether they would travel next to Balfonheim or to Jahara, when they debated on why shooting practice or dancing was the more insignificant activity, when they bickered about whose turn it was to wash their clothes, and when finally, they couldn't stand the fighting anymore, no matter whose way the argument had gone, it was she who tired of it.

And just as she admitted that she was exhausted, they would come to her and ask for attention, and willingly, she would give all she could.

Always. Willingly, she would waste her power on curing their little cuts and bruises; willingly, she would spend time sitting by their sick beds, worrying about their condition until they were better. And when they were better, she was wearied, but again they would come, dancing and parading great skills in shooting for attention, and the whole ordeal began again.

It was an awful way of living. She never believed she would devote herself to such a race the way she did herself to them when she'd left home so many years ago.

"Is something the matter?" he asked her, stopping only to glare at another Hume who'd gawked at her as they passed a fountain.

"It is nothing," she answered, pretending not to notice the dark rings under his eyes; he wouldn't have wanted her to. "We should go."

"Ah," he nodded, his mouth slowly turning up to form a grin. "Of course. We wouldn't want to keep the little one waiting."

It was an awful way of living. But she cherished him and she loved her, and in days like these, it was really quite all the life she needed.

**XIIXIIXII**

Leather boots ran up a cobalt concrete stairway, going against the traffic consisting of Humes, Seeq, Bangaa, and many other races, all in a hurry to finish their duties for the day. Airships whizzed across the remotely peaceful skies of Rabanastre to match the hectic mood of its inhabitants below.

"I tell you, those blasted imperials..."

"...because the Consul is arriving..."

"...banquet in his honor!"

Adela did not raise her head as overplayed news and remarks flew past her ears and instead kept her eyes on the marble stair-like structure in the center of the southern plaza, pouring water out on its mustard steps down to its tiled basin. A palm tree swayed by each of its four ledges, its leaves a calming sight in contrast to all the shoving and pickpocketing going on around her. Panting, she stopped by the one of the fountain's outstretched basins to catch her breath. Kneeling on the hot ground and leaning her arms against the basin's edge, she skimmed her fingers on its smooth tiles before sighing and lazily dipping her hands in the cool water.

"Hello, Adela!"

Adela turned her head to her right and smiled uneasily at the man who greeted her. What was his name? She could never remember it (had he ever even given it to her?), although she did remember every story he told her about beautiful women and how he was so... love struck. He would approach her whenever she was at the Southern plaza and willingly tell her all the wonderful things he noticed about the women in the city (all the while ignoring any form of refusal to listen from her). What puzzled her was how, even with his ideal build and his uncommon dark blond hair, he was too abashed to ever court any of these women!

"Ah...hello there."

The lovestruck man, whatever his name was, sat on the fountain ledge beside Adela. "Monid was looking for you," he told her. "He asked me to send you a message if ever I saw you."

"Monid?" Adela stood and tried to shake her hands dry. Monid was an arrogant Bangaa she was once at odds with from Clan Centurio whom she developed a soft spot for when she saw him taking care of an orphan Hume. Alas, he still hated her. "What would he want to say to me?"

"Oh, the usual," The lovestruck man muttered. "Death threats and things. Do you still want to hear it?"

Adela grinned slightly in amusement and shrugged. "All right, let's have it."

He cleared his throat. "You tell that slime-fingered, pilfering little thief to keep her grimy hands off my next Mark lest she wants her throat slit!" he said in a gruff, raspy voice that closely resembled Monid's. Having been able to imagine Monid angrily utter those words accompanied by outrageous hand gestures, Adela was sent into a fit of laughter. "I asked him what the Mark was," the man continued, "but he said he wouldn't fall for _that_ again. You really should stop looting his Marks. Bangaa can get really crazy when they're angry; worse when they're from Clan Centurio. Do you want me to say anything to him?"

Adela stifled her giggles after the man sent her a stern look. "Yes, please, since I shall be too preoccupied later to bother looting from his kills," she replied. "You tell that adorable lizard that I'll do whatever I want with his loot and that if he wants them back, he'll have to ask nicely."

"With that message, he's probably going to kill _me_, too–ouch!"

Behind the man stood a boy only a year younger than Adela. He had stopped when he heard Adela's friend complain.

"Oh!" the boy ran his fingers through his short ash blond hair as he pocketed a small, white slip of paper. "Hey, sorry, guys. I didn't see you there."

"Why such haste, Vaan?" asked Adela, focused on Vaan's pocket. If that slip of paper was what she thought it was, she needed one as well. Had Nono returned already? She missed him dearly.

Vaan rested the back of his head on his hands before turning to her. "Uh... well, y'see... Migelo wanted me to get some supplies from outside the Eastgate for the fete tonight. Did he hire you to help out?"

"I'm afraid not. He doesn't trust me because I'm not seen around Rabanastre often."

"Oh, that's too bad." Vaan glanced both ways before leaning closer. "Do you...want to get into the fete?"

Adela grinned and arched an eyebrow at Vaan. "What do you have in mind, Vaan?"

"Well, this is getting interesting and all, but I'd rather stay out of it." Adela's fountain friend took a step back. "No offense, but I have much better things to do. Like finding that beautiful Viera, for example... Oh, I wonder if she's attached! I hope that man she was with was a sort of stepbroth-"

"Viera?" Adela interrupted, eyes wide. "You saw one with a man? When? Where?"

"What's a Viera again?" Vaan asked, only to be ignored by his two preoccupied companions.

"About an hour ago, before I bumped into Monid in the Muthru Bazaar," the lovestruck man replied, recalling the buxom beauty, though he dare not mention _that_ in front of the children (especially since they were the only ones who actually listened to his ramblings). "That tall beauty has captured my heart. I must meet her! I'm not so sure about the man, although I can say he was very irritable."

Adela rolled her eyes in exasperation before the expression on her face turned into one of anxiety. "I must go. I have a previous engagement I had forgotten about... Good luck to the both of you!"

Once Adela was out of sight, an awkward silence passed between the two males.

"So..." Vaan turned to his other friend. "What's your name again?"

**XIIXIIXII**

Oh, the bazaar! Adela's most favorite district in the city. The Muthru Bazaar, to be exact, where one could find everything– from the most common of fruits and spices to the rarest of daggers– and most of the time, she didn't even have to take a thing from her own pouch to pay for them! It wasn't her fault the people were so reckless, nor was it her concern how their pockets were so easily punctured. Their pretty gold coins would always fall to the dusty ground, and they didn't seem to _want_ them back, always walking and running off in a hurry...and by the time she'd decided to return the gil, they would already be long gone.

Once Adela passed and greeted a polite four-eyed moogle dressed all in red, she was officially inside the great fair of Rabanastre. Translucent carpets of purples, blues, and greens canopied the place, their colors melting with the sunshine as it touched the earth. Adela blinked as the flickering image of an amber-eyed man wearing an armor of ivory, gold, and ultramarine appeared in the rising distance before her, but the sight of him left her as quickly as it came. Shaking her head till it ached and turning her attention to Imperials and foreigners elbowing their way through the market, to the locals calling for customers, and to everyone haggling for fair prices, she rubbed her hands together. A little shopping never hurt anyone, did it?

Catching the sweet whiff of an assortment of freshly picked fruits, Adela approached the booth with crates chock full of them, deciding to wait for the shopkeeper to look away when the addictive smell of a blacksmith's furnace brought her to another stall. She cringed at most of the maces, swords, and guns laid out and hung before her, but the daggers made her eyes sparkle. There were magenta-colored daggers and jet black ones and some had curved handles with the sharpest edges she'd ever seen! She wanted them all. But it was hard to keep such a huge collection in her pockets, no matter how many she had, and taking them one by one would be too slow. Hmm...

"Interested in anything, miss?" asked the blacksmith, coming from his workplace behind the stall, but Adela merely smiled and shook her head. Perhaps this wasn't a very good idea, but...it was already done. "Well, if you ever need a good weap–Oy!" the blacksmith suddenly shouted to himself, "I had a clump of arrows on this side earlier. Where did they–?"

"Thiiiiiiieeeeeeeef!" cried a shopkeeper across the blacksmith. The Seeq pointed to someone higher up in the bazaar, to a Hume whose green pockets jingled as he walked, tossing around a string with a red puff on one of its ends. Grapes popped their tiny heads out of his pouch, and stuck in between his trousers and his shirt, there were two arrows. Gasps erupted from all those who were paying attention.

"My purse!" cried a lady Bangaa.

"My grapes!" hissed a Moogle.

A little Seeq girl looked up from her tattered stuffed toy. "My mog's _pom-pom_."

The Hume stopped, turning his head halfway and noticing the eyes that had glued themselves to him.

"Daaaaaddy!" cried the little girl.

A larger Seeq of the same color lumbered forward, a frown evident on his crumpled face. Many moved out of the way for him; Adela stayed behind the blacksmith's stall with the Seeq child. The Hume yelped and continued to walk, faster this time, to which the Seeq responded by beginning to run to him, as if preparing for a tackle. As in, preparing to tackle.

The Hume went down screaming like a banshee.

"I want a piece of him, too!" said the fruit vending Moogle, and with a shrill war cry, he threw himself in the thief's face. The Bangaa woman's lover was forced to make a grab for the man's pockets, and soon the confrontation developed into a brawl. Those who'd meant to join either saw it as a chance to earn money or needed to relieve the stress caused by the new Consul's arrival, but most were just poor passersby who'd been shoved into the fray by incoming brawlers.

"Tsk, what a mess," commented the blacksmith, temporarily closing the shutters to his shop. "I wonder if those arrows will still be intact by the time those Imperials come to stop this."

"I don't know," said the little Seeq girl to him, peeking out from the side to see her father's progress, "isn't that Hume right there one?"

"Oh," the blacksmith sighed and muttered something about Archadians. "Well, there's a lot more where that came from, anyway. Now where did that other girl go?"

Adela had long gone, having evaded the fight by going deeper and higher into the bazaar, the shops serving as a barricade from any aggressors. With the blacksmith's arrows in her trousers' long back pocket (Nono had specially designed them for her), she reached the top of the bazaar and turned left, where a red door stood in her way.

Taking a small piece of Magicite from another pocket, Adela held the stone before the doorknob. As the knob and the rock glowed, she twisted the latter object in her hand around several times in a certain pattern until there was a clicking sound, and the door was open.

Slamming the door shut once she was inside a small room containing a few dusty tables and benches, Adela sighed in relief. The darkness of the room comforted her somewhat, but she still found ease in the beams of light that slipped through the narrow, blue-tinted windows positioned high above the room. Adela muttered something incoherently and rubbed her hands on her face in exhaustion. Playing pretend could be so hard sometimes, especially when she had to be the straightforward, provocative eighteen year-old orphan of Rabanastre.

"You're late."

Her eyes nearly popping out as a wide grin replaced the troubled features on her face, she bounded towards a figure in the middle of the room. "Balthier!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him with great ardor. "I'm so sorry, it slipped my mind somehow."

The hazel-haired man smiled before putting on a look of disgust and gently removing her hands from his person.

"Ugh," he said, yanking her auburn hair – rather, her wig – off her head. He dearly ran his ringed fingers through short, genuinely sandy blonde hair that could have once belonged to a princess. "When's the last time you took a bath, _Anya_?"

"Well," Anya took a step back and pretended to think hard as she tapped her chin. "I think it rained a few days ago."

"Anya!" Balthier sighed and massaged his right temple, wondering how he could have put up with this for two years. One year was more specific, since it had taken that long to rid her of the quirks and insecurities she had as a blue blood in her past life. Ah, well, she was better this way; at least, better than a rich demented old– hmm. He'd simply meant a spoiled brat. "I raised you to be a Sky Pirate, not a street rat."

"Please don't say such hurtful things, Balthier!" Anya cried, feigning shame as she hung her head. "You know you're like a father to me."

Balthier rolled his eyes and muttered, although his features softened, "And you know what's said about adolescents and their parents..."

To Anya's delight, someone beside Balthier had joined in on her snickering.

"_Amba_!" she cheered, clasping her hands together happily as she set her eyes on the Viera she had become so familiar with. She enveloped a magnolia-haired, dark-skinned woman with long hare-like ears in a light embrace before pulling away and telling her, "I missed you very much."

"It has been but a week," Fran replied, regarding Anya with a tender gaze. The small Hume girl Balthier had chanced upon two years ago was – in Hume terms – finally of age, yet she still seemed so fragile and naive. Or was it another one of her games? Balthier had encouraged that part of Anya despite her protests; she assumed he didn't want Anya to...hate him, as most Humes at that age did their fathers. "We have not abandoned you."

"I know, _Amba_, I know, but it would be but a day had my work in Rabanastre and your bartering capabilities not been our only sources of income," replied Anya. Fran took this as a cue to stare accusingly at her partner.

"Not a peep out of you, Fran," said Balthier, making sure to avoid cracks about his idleness of late. It wasn't his fault they hadn't had any purposeful  
destinations in a while. Besides, that would all change tonight. "Enough time has been wasted. Anya, what are our plans for this fine evening?"

"If you'd please look to the table behind you," the girl began, positioning herself between Fran and Balthier, and took a tiny lamp filled with tiny magicite pebbles from the pouch near her waist. She cast Fira into it before she continued, "I borrowed a fairly accurate map of the castle grounds from a friend, Migelo, so if we are to enter through here..."

As Fran listened to her explain the details of their escapade for that night and how they would acquire what Anya yearningly called the Goddess, she watched her two Humes interact.

It would not be long before Balthier would find a loophole in Anya's plan and question her about it, resulting in another lengthy argument. And what arguments they had. But they had always been bizarre, even in that aspect, even before Balthier stripped them of everything, of anything that might remind them of their past lives. She supposed it was what had drawn them together: the awareness that there was much more to learn than they were expected to believe and the need to be accepted even with this knowledge. For with this enlightenment they had each become the dispossessed, and so the dispossessed found consolation in each other.

Quite the life, indeed.

**XIIXIIXII**

There was a ghost of a humming sound in the lower halls of Castle Rabanastre the night of the new Consul's welcoming banquet. Had it been heard up above, in the large ballroom where false laughter and fear hidden in pretended respect reigned, it would have been silenced immediately and permanently. But it was genuine, the sound, and it was too far away to be noticed, so it continued.

The sound gave off a tune resembling a complicated old piece by a once-famed pianist, but a few childish inventions both added to and took from its past magnificence.

Anya danced to the silent melody in her mind, failing to realize that the tune had long left her throat. As she pranced past a conjunction of four hallways, looking both ways and reveling in the oddly lax security that evening, she brushed her fingers against the symbols engraved in the castle walls. They had a task to perform, and with haste, but she doubted Balthier had reached the treasure chamber already. At least, she secretly hoped he didn't as she inhaled the familiar smell of the castle's carpeted floors and wished to never release her breath.

"Anya," Fran whispered, holding the young pirate back by her shoulder and narrowing her eyes at her trembling hand. "Are you not feeling well?"

The girl removed her hand from the wall as if burned and shoved it into her pocket. "Oh, I'm all right!" she said, ignoring Fran's halt and moving on. "It won't be long now. I'd say another fork, then forward and right. If I remember Migelo's map correctly, that is."

Anya's sudden change in demeanor was something Fran was accustomed to, but it had never stopped bothering her. Still, she made no move to show it nor did she push for details and concocted reasons. Instead she focused on the lack of Imperials in the area. Was this a trap for them of some sort? That brute was known for his connections in Archadia, and although he was not known to frequent Rabanastre, the new Consul, perhaps a sympathizer, had just arrived...or the Consul was completely unaware of the treasure that lay deep inside his new quarters. That must have been it. Had any other Hume known of this _goddess_, it would have been taken long before this night. What assurance did they have now, even, that it was still there?

"Here, _Amba_." Anya tilted her head to a segmented wall to her right and revealed to Fran a small bump that she assumed was a switch. "This is the other entrance. Hopefully, he did not forget how to use that Stone I so painfully toiled over yesterday morning."

"If he has," Fran replied, "then he must accept condign punishment. Does spending his pocket money for our supplies sound...good enough?"

Anya laughed, leaning down to mutter something incoherent to the bump. It shone for a fraction of a second before it _click_ed open. "No Bhujerban madhu for a week! He'll suffer for sure."

Fran smiled but said nothing as they entered the chamber at last. Chests and urns piled on top of each other crowded the room, bright with shining gold coins. On one side there stood the statue of a seafoam green woman adorned with mounds of jewelry, bewitching enough to be mistaken for a goddess. She was, in fact, the statue of a pagan deity, and Fran had read enough Hume books to know this. Her arms were half-outstretched, and her head had opened up to reveal...nothing. Where was Anya's treasure?

"Who are you? And that shirt..." a boy's voice wrenched Anya away from the gold before she could think of taking a single coin. Eyes steadily widening, she slowly turned her head in the direction of the chamber's main entrance. Into the light came Balthier with a smug look on his face, his eyes glued to the boy glaring at him. So much for condign punishment.

"I play the leading man, who else?" Balthier raised his eyebrows at the boy– Vaan, Anya was shocked to realize– and the tiny thing in his hands before turning to his companions. "Fran, Anya, the Magicite."

With her head bowed, Anya followed Fran as she circled Vaan. The Viera stared at him expectantly, holding a hand out the way the goddess did. "Now then," she said in a matter-of-factly way, "We'll take that."

Vaan jumped at Anya's and Fran's sudden appearance, having been too busy protecting his new treasure to hear their entrance from behind him. It took him a second or so to recognize who the first girl was, which was quite a lot of time, considering she was the only auburn-haired girl he knew who dressed herself in tight trousers and the weirdest singlet (which, except for the straps from the neck piece and the neck piece itself, looked exactly like the one that 'lead' guy was wearing) he'd ever seen. "A-Adela? What are you– why did he just call you– when–?"

"Sorry, Vaan." Anya interrupted, sending him an apologetic look; still, keeping her wig on,, she advanced towards him. "But it really is better that we have it."

"Well, you won't," Vaan sneered at her. This was his take, after all! The last he heard was that her name was Adela, not Anya, and since when was she friends with and wearing nearly the same thing as some guy with a funny accent and a mean...rabbit lady?! Oh, wait, that's what a Viera was, right! But he really shouldn't get distracted at a time like this! "I found it," he said, shaking his head and holding it close to his chest. "It's mine."

Barely stopping himself from yawning, Balthier leaned nonchalantly against a table as Fran stood at his side. Children were always so selfish. Especially when they were young sky pirates, and especially when it came to deciding where to travel next. Little thieves in Rabanastre came second.

"And then when I take it from you," he decided, crossing his arms, "it'll be _mine_."

Subconsciously taking a few steps back, Vaan continued to shake his head in refusal. Fran and Balthier stared him down as if to say there was no other recourse but to give them the Magicite; Anya did the same, hoping the sympathetic look she'd put on would work and that Vaan would believe giving them the stone was for his own good.

Vaan liked none of the choices set before him...

Screams and explosions from outside momentarily distracted the his three new acquaintances.

...thank Old Dalan there was another! Nearly tripping as he sped out of the room through a new door he'd spotted (a door neither he nor Adela or Anya and the Viera lady came from), Vaan was too anxious to look back. Nevertheless, he was still able to realize that this was not the way he came. Which way would he go now? The path to his right led to the outside, now filled with Imperials running around like crazy, so he took the door to his left. It also brought him out in the open air, but at least this path had no Imperials in sight.

In the treasure chamber, Balthier shook his head as he watched the back door slam itself shut. "Exit stage right," he shrugged.

"The gods do not smile on us," Fran stated, glaring at the statue of the pagan goddess.

Balthier was aloof as ever. "I like it better that way."

Anya was less calm than her elders. She wanted that Magicite, _really_, and to have a little _rat_ hunter from Rabanastre take such a precious thing away from her was a heavy blow to her pride as a pirate. Balthier noticed this and caved in less slowly than he usually did. Was he that tired?

"Anya!" he called, clapping his hands to keep the adrenaline in her pumping. "It's time to play tag. You're it. Try not to lose, hmm?"

Anya turned to him, almost looking hurt, before grinning. "Nobody steals from a sky pirate. And not to worry. I don't lose." Then, nodding sharply to herself, she proceeded to hound after the other child. Balthier followed closely behind her.

Another ground-shaking explosion greeted the two as they exited the castle, causing Balthier to pull an almost thrown-off Anya back to her feet. Below the bridge on which they trod, Imperials and a large group of unknown fighters ruthlessly crossed swords. Had one of the pirates looked down, she would have recognized the troubled stance of a woman she–of course–had never seen in this life, but the stars had much more intrigue to offer. High above them, an airship nine times the size of their own was ready to fire its cannons.

"The Ifrit, eh?" Balthier remarked and caught his breath, seeming impressed as he glanced up to the sky. Those weren't stars; they were the ship's glossair rings. "That's quite an entrance."

Vaan, who had obviously been thrown off his feet as well, looked to Balthier curiously as he said this. Balthier noticed but brushed him aside just as quickly and turned back to the large battleship above them. "Impeccable timing," he continued, cursing in his mind. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were waiting all along."

An agitated Anya ignored him as she finally detected Vaan's presence. Eyeing the Magicite in Vaan's clutches, she snarled. "Vaan, give me the Magicite!" She lunged at him, only to be held back by Balthier as soon as the Ifrit fired a full cannon, blowing dust in their eyes.

The older man groaned at Vaan once the smoke cleared. "Stop running!"

Anya continued to give chase as a low buzzing sound accompanied her across the bridge. Vaan stopped once Fran– on her hover bike– flew past Anya and halted before him, successfully cornering him in between the three of them.

Vaan flung his head around furiously as the realization that there was no way out of his predicament slowly sank in. If they wanted it this much, it had to be valuable. There was no way he would give it up!

"End of the line!" said Balthier, briskly walking towards him, as there was no way he would be able to escape again. "You have something that belongs to _us_."

"It does belong to me, Vaan," Anya growled, scaring the boy with her quick pace and incessant snarl. This couldn't be the girl he had friendlily spoken with just that afternoon, could it? "Please, I must have it!"

As Anya moved to retrieve her precious Magicite, Balthier felt a spotlight on him– and it wasn't the kind he basked in.

"Damn!" he cursed, seeing the Imperials not far behind him. Anya, too, spotted the knights that had spotted them and broke into a sprint. "Fran, Anya," Balthier bellowed, "Let's move!"

Anya bit down on her lip hard in order to control herself before running past Vaan. Damned empire! She was so close... What did Balthier say earlier? That that empire airship had anticipated whatever was going on?

"Anya!" Fran shouted, reaching for the girl. Once Anya's outstretched arm was in reach, she grabbed it and nearly flung her over the backseat of the hover bike. The child scooted into her _Amba_'s seat with her as the woman swerved and did a sudden dive downward, which drew out an excited cheer from Anya.

Had Balthier– who had just tossed the Magicite and himself off the bridge– heard this, he would have laughed and said Anya's love for a good ride was inherited from him. He was too busy keeping Vaan from falling to his death as he landed on their hover bike, however, to pay attention to his female companions.

Hearing voices arguing at the back of the bike, Anya turned around to see Vaan barely hanging onto Balthier. She was overjoyed that they had made it onto the hover bike, but...it was their fault they were falling over to the side! Worried for the Magicite and somewhat, in the back of her mind, for her orphan friend, Anya tried leaning to the right to balance the bike. It clearly did not work, for they were gradually losing their hover– in fact, her actions only proved to irritate the already cranky Balthier, whose grip on Vaan had accidentally loosened because of her tilting.

"Anya, stop moving!" he bellowed again, pulling her by the left arm to move her back into a straight sitting position. "And what's going on, Fran?"

"I don't know," Fran yelled back, equally disgruntled by the hover bike's sudden failure. "It's not heeding me!"

"Ugh," Balthier grumbled. "I don't have time for this!"

"I-I'm slipping!" Vaan cried, ceasing his struggling and actually trying to help Balthier pull him up. Anya would have lent a hand, had her fear of her _Tatah_'s temper not been so great.

Balthier dug his fingers into Vaan's arm when he started to slip away faster. "Not good!"

Those were the exact words on Fran's mind when more of the Ifrit's cannons sent smoke and rubble their way. And just as Balthier had managed to get a good grip on Vaan's forearm, too! Unnerved by the fire lashing out at them like a toad to its dinner while their bike strove on the last of it's power, she braced herself.

"Anya, hold on to me!"

"Amba!" the girl cried, having had obeyed the order before Fran could even finish it. She wrapped her arms around the Viera, ready, too, for the worst.

The small glossair rings lost their light at last, and all Balthier and Vaan could do was scream as they spiraled down into naught but darkness.

* * *

How was it, new and old readers? I'd really like to know. Anyway, hopefully there isn't much I need to explain here. Yes, Anya decided to steal arrows instead of daggers since she couldn't decide on which to take, and that doorknob thing was something I made up instead of doing a normal lockpicking thing. Err...is there anything else to explain? I think you're all smart enough to figure out who's thinking what and why. If it isn't clear, feel free to PM me!

_Amba_ - Bhujerban word for mother

_Tatah_ - Bhujerban word for father

That's all for now, I guess! I hope you liked it, please review!

Blah blah constructive criticism badly needed blah blah greatly appreciated. (For new readers, that means " As usual, constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated!") Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

Sorry I was gone so long! I had school to worry about, and a bunch of other personal life things. But it's summer now! And things have subsided here. So I'm back and ready to resume the story! I don't have much to talk about today, but I hope you enjoy reading! R&Ring will be received with ehugs and ecookies and appreciation!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Blue electricity crackled in the air around a crashed and smoking hover bike, as if laughing to taunt its former owner. Its once blinding glare had been reduced to blinking flashes of dim light, lost on the dark, untraveled waters of the Garamsythe Waterway. To put things simply, the sewer had softened their landing. Although in this case, thought Vaan, softened meant rushed and landing translated into impending deaths. They were still alive, though, and barely, only having jumped off the bike at the last minute. It felt like he broke a rib somewhere, if there was such thing as a rib on his posterior, but he ignored it and stared at his companions. The guy with Adela (or whoever she was) had just finished casting Cure on his light gashes, while the girl he thought he knew cleaned her slightly bleeding elbow gashes with a potion she had in her pocket.

It wasn't any better for Fran, who, though she remained unscathed, had built the hover bike with her own hands (and perhaps with the help of the small hands of their airship mechanic, Nono). This had been her first creation, her "child", as Anya often referred to it, and as the case would be for any creator, its death was much more painful than a couple of bruises and was much lamented.

"What happened?" asked the Viera, still frustrated with the loss. "Our hover didn't just drop–it disappeared."

"Well," Anya cleared her throat, "_Maybe_ if Vaan gave me the-"

"Bah, forget it," said Balthier, not having heard Anya speak and looking down at Fran from his seat on a broken flight of stairs. Those things had broken their fall, too. If fall, in this case, had meant their backs. "Even if we could fly, the Ifrit's playing with fire, and I'd rather not get burned." His gaze flew past his companions and landed on the small bulbs of light scattered among the stale blue of the sewers. "We'll go the old-fashioned way."

Anya huffed, half at the irritating smell the waterway and–no doubt–its rats and other filthy inhabitants carried, and half at Balthier's interruption. "If your precious feet can survive the rat dung-filled waters...can't even join a simple game of mud pile treasure hunting..."

"What was that, Anya?"

"Nothing," she replied with an obviously forced smile. Was she the only one who actually remembered_ why_ they were here in the first place? "You know, Vaan, the Imperials will be very angry if they catch you with that stone. You'll be arrested when they do. Flogged, even! Why don't you let _me_ hold it, first?"

Vaan made no reply. He seemed to be very busy staring at the broken bike, like Fran. But desperation had always easily clouded Anya's mind. It wasn't the first time her senses had failed her, but had Balthier known her thoughts he would have been so disappointed by her lack of intuition. Or angry with her betrayal, depending on which thoughts he chose to read.

Nevertheless, Anya slowly tiptoed towards Vaan, hoping to grab the Magicite from him. "Hah!" she laughed, only a foot away from Vaan's hands. "Yes! It-"

But her voice was loud this time, enough to snap him out of his trance, and he managed to step out of her way before she could touch any part of him. Stumbling, Anya cursed, but she caught herself and turned to glare at Vaan again. Twice! He'd evaded her twice. How embarrassing!

Shaking his head at Anya's naïveté and want of tact, something he was never able to fully correct especially when she was this desperate, Balthier cast his tired eyes on Vaan– who had gone back to staring at the 'Viera' in amazement– and raised an eyebrow.

"Not many Viera where you come from, thief?" asked Balthier, an amused look on his face. Anya rolled her eyes and shot him an expectant look, but he made no move to help her take her treasure back.

"It's Vaan," said the boy, frowning, and turned shyly to the Viera, who stood as she finished mourning her loss and when she realized she had become the topic of conversation. "Sorry."

"Well, Fran is special, in that she'd deign to partner with a Hume," said Balthier, grinning at the Viera before he noticed the girl behind her. "Two Humes now."

"Oh?" the rare Viera gave her Hume a smirk. "Like a sky pirate that chooses to steal through the sewers?"

"Rarer is the sky pirate that refuses to acknowledge what take is rightfully whose!" said Anya, quiet enough to be a murmur but loud enough to be acknowledged by her _Tatah_. Monid came to mind, too, and he dragged along what should have been a foreign feeling called guilt for looting all of his Marks before. "Rare, but not unheard of."

"Sky pirates?" Vaan exclaimed, "You're sky pirates? So you have an _airship_-?"

"You can ride once if you give me the sto-"

"It's Balthier," interrupted the leader of the pirate trio, a two-year old memory rushing back in mixed segments as he stood from his seat on the stairs their hover bike had crashed into and permanently damaged. "Listen, thief– Vaan. If you ever want to see your home again, you'll do exactly as I say. Myself, Fran, Anya–" he pointed to each of them as he said their names, "–and you. We're working together now. Understood?"

"Don't even think you're getting this."

The older man shrugged nonchalantly, as was his habit. "The thought never crossed _my_ mind." Which was, of course, the complete opposite of what was going through his head, but Balthier had presumed that as long as he continued to lie, the guilt produced by doing so would never catch up. That assumption would hold up for now.

"Let's be off then, shall we?"

The Garamsythe Waterway was...well, full of water. Dirty water, to be specific, and if you were one as observant and easily disgusted as Balthier, the sewer liquid, because it didn't even warrant such a pleasing name as water, carried the stench--no, the _taste_-- of not only its decaying metal gates but waste, Hume and otherwise. The sky pirate wrinkled his nose and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth in utter dissatisfaction. This place was a breeding ground for insects, and-- Balthier stopped, a displeased expression coming to his face--not just of the bloodsucking kind.

He hated to step into the amoeba-infested water, but it was his duty to know the situation full well, to Fran and to Anya and no one else, so, with a deep sigh and a cringe as little specks of dirt and trash crept into his already waterlogged shoes, he dragged his feet forward.

Balthier stopped before a pile of dead bodies, men, Seeq and Bangaa whose uniform armor was unidentifiable. Tainted swords and bows lay beside them, still as their bloody, arrowed bodies. Yet the water flowed on, over and under and past the corpses, as if they had never moved or breathed before, as if they had already been forgotten.

"Insurgents," he spoke, turning his gaze to water ahead of them. By the morning the blood would have all but disappeared. "Most like they thought to take advantage of a lax watch while the fete's on...to feed the good consul a length of steel for his supper." Balthier shook his head. clearing it of any knowledge of such complications of being in the elite. "I should think Vayne used to such hospitality. Clever. He used himself as the bait to draw them near, and then sent in the Air Brigade. A fine, bloody banquet."

Fran bowed her head in respect for the dead, but knew that there were more pressing matters at hand for them. "A battle may have taken place here; we'll be fools to believe we are safe from the Empire even in these sewers."

"Hmph." Balthier frowned and folded his sleeves back, not at all pleased with this fact. "I daresay I've soiled my cuffs. If a dungeon's waiting for us at the end of the night, it had best have a chance of wardrobe." And he moved on.

Anya and Vaan stayed behind, taking last glances at those with enough gall to fight for their freedom. "Where did they come from?" Vaan asked, but to himself, because the girl beside him was too eager to take his steal to enter conversation with. "I never noticed you guys..."

"And no one ever will," replied Anya, crouching before the bodies and removing the arrows that desecrated them. "All the lost and dead are forgotten."

"That's not true. I'll never forget my family. I'll never forget my brother."

"Then don't. And never forget these men. Let us never forget those who stood their ground, no matter their futility," said the sky pirate, and she turned away almost shamefully.

"Anya! Vaan!" Balthier called past the right turn he had taken with Fran. "Are you going to stay there till the Steelings begin to pick at your heads?"

"We're coming!" Anya shouted back in the most cheerful tone he'd heard all night, but when she turned back to glance at the stone and its current holder, she frowned. "In time, I'll get what's mine."

The rat hunter was shocked not by her words, but by the fact that she didn't jump him or demand for him to return the Magicite to her. Then again, she had never been this serious either. And before this night he didn't know about an Insurgence or an actual plot to kill that new Consul. Murmuring a prayer for the dead and following Anya as she started off for her friends, Vaan knew he was going to see this to the end.

For all its faults, the Garamsythe was still a work of art. Lamps of blue, white, and vermillion lit the labyrinth as symbols of waves and other beauties hugged its walls; its similar copper gates and uneven bridges made it almost bearable. Fran looked over to her right as they passed another narrow gate dropped down to serve as a bridge and cast her eyes past a curving path filled with Lizards and rats. From where she stood, she could hear the splashing, almost thundering, of the artificial waterfalls where she could only see light. Her heart began to beat very quickly at the sound, but she dismissed it as overexcitement and continued without a word.

The four scaled a few walls and avoided packs of monsters through tedious stair-climbing and jumping until they came upon another interesting sight. At the moment they were atop the water, their clothes almost dry, when loud, angry voices echoed from the high ledge across them. Four Imperials cornered a sword-wielding woman who had just attacked one of their comrades, causing him to fall violently into the water.

He could not see her clearly, but Balthier could tell it was a girl. Young, but noticeably older than Anya as she, outnumbered but with sword and shield ready, turned to face her country's oppressors and cried: "Who would be next?"

"Close ranks!" said one of the Imperial swordsmen. Yes, Balthier remembered, Archadians always did follow orders first and asked questions later, when it was too late. "Bring her down!"

"Vaan!" Anya gasped, watching the stone unsafely bobbing up and down in Vaan's pocket as he nearly flew down the stairs and into the water. The rest had no choice but to follow.

The girl desperately looked around for an escape route. She was clearly not as strong as she seemed before; her quick breathing and shaking knees assured Balthier of this. Although her knees didn't wobble as terribly as Anya's did when she was faced with a non-_Raksas_ enemy. She was fine when dealing with beasts and vermin, but he would never forget how petrified Anya was when she first encountered Ba'Gam-

The Imperials closed in on the woman, whose left foot teetered off the edge of where she stood. She held her sword out, threatening to attack them, but her fist shook, and Anya could see that she didn't want to die. And what a lucky woman she was! For foolish young Vaan had come to her rescue, having moved the fallen soldier out of the way to position himself below her.

"Jump down!" Vaan yelled. His arms were outstretched and ready to catch her. What mattered, however, was if she was ready to jump. "Hurry!" All right, it didn't matter; her rancor returned to her in a flurry of excited waves, and she realized that she would rather risk suicide than get cut down by Imperials--by mere foot soldiers, to be exact.

To everyone's surprise, Vaan was able to save her. The two stared at each other with wide eyes– amazed that she actually survived– before the Imperials shattered their hopes once more. Balthier didn't think that anyone had the right to be surprised. They were Archadians; what else could they do but estrange people from each other and from themselves?

"She's not alone!" one of them yelled, ordering the others to hurry to the stairs Vaan had used to rescue the woman.

"Vaan," said Anya, her back turned to him and the woman as her eyes followed the men who would be their apprehenders. She drew out a dagger from her singlet, her knees shaking. "Keep it safe. _Amba_, _Tatah_!"

Fran nodded and pursed her lips, readying her bow and taking an arrow from her quiver. "Our ranks grow by the hour..."

"And our troubles with them," Balthier agreed, loading his gun in turn before he and his partner reluctantly engaged themselves in an unneeded tussle with the Empire. At least it was, until one Imperial tried to murder Anya for looting his dead comrade.

Miraculously, Vaan was doing fine, able to handle his own sword. Balthier noted that he was used to fighting even with the sewer's dirty water trying to drag him down and came to the conclusion that he either trained here often or that the boy really was a street rat. Vaan and the girl he had saved joined forces against one of the swordsmen. The latter man was not overpowered, but between Vaan's snide remarks and the girl's scornful grunts, he became confused and thus arrived his early death.

Fran and Balthier stood against one swordsman each. They were rather used to people trying to stab them to death (money-hungry bounty hunters were so much more challenging, being driven by sheer greed and all), which was why they had chosen long range weapons. The two adults of the group aimed for their respective opponent's necks and shot twice.

Now, Anya was the self-proclaimed shadow of their little sky pirate trio. Neither Balthier nor Fran denied her this title for she really did seem like their shadow, always hiding and stealing from the enemy while their focus was on the former duo. Were Anya's life ever to be threatened...well, the chance it would happen was so small that they never talked about what they would do should it ever. The first and last time it did was when she first encountered Ba'Gamnan– at that time the Bangaa had managed to raze part of her skin with his lance-chainsaw hybrid of a weapon– and at that time Balthier carried her all the way to the Strahl, which they used to make a hasty escape.

Balthier wasn't there to carry her off at the moment, and Fran was too busy with her own swordsman to save her with a distracting arrow. All Anya could do was move to the side, evade, slash at the swordsman's pockets (which only angered the Imperial further) with her dagger, catch whatever he had in there, and resume avoiding a bloody death. She had never and could never kill a Hume or any being from an allegedly civilized race. It was a stupid self-imposed rule, if Balthier could say so himself, but no matter what he did, he could never rinse that value from her.

"Adela, Anya, whatever–move!"

Anya jumped back and blocked the Imperial's sword with her tiny dagger. The clash sent a painful vibration through her hand, but her focus kept her head on her shoulders. Vaan had now come to save her, thrusting his sword into the nape of the Imperial's neck. Taken by surprise as his comrade was, the soldier choked beneath his helmet before he fell forward. Anya stepped aside and wiped her face in relief before crouching down and looting the last of the soldier's pockets. Standing and turning to Vaan, she held out all she had looted from that one Imperial to him.

"Thank you," she said, earning a quizzical expression from Vaan. "You killed that Imperial. You...deserve his loot." She murmured something about making it up to some 'poor lizard' before Fran and Balthier appeared, subtly checking her for scratches or marks.

Vaan shrugged and turned to the unnamed girl. "You all right?" he asked, the fact that he had actually killed someone slowly sinking in. If he was going to hang out with these people, he guessed he would have to get used to it even if Penelo would never approve. The soldier was from the Empire, anyway...

Balthier, Fran, and Anya stopped their conversation to take their first real glances at what Balthier had correctly assumed to be a rebel. Dirty blonde hair curbed inwardly and barely touched the tip of her shoulders, on which her head stood a few centimeters below the rest's. Baby blues looked back into Vaan's own, containing conflicting expressions of anxiety, relief, and apprehension. The enemies of her enemies were never necessarily her friends.

Still, she was not a complete ingrate. "Thank you." And she would have thanked the two other Humes and the Viera had one of them not stared at her so oddly. "What is it...?"

Anya made no reply, a dazed look decorating her previously deadpan face. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes fully glazed, she clenched her shaking fists. "I would always try to forget," she murmured, but no one could make it out.

Vaan cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Uh, I'm Vaan. And this is Balthier, and–hey!" he glared at Balthier as the man grabbed Anya by the wrist and pulled her away, but he gave up quickly (they were sky pirates, after all, and couldn't be persuaded to do what they didn't want to) and turned to the unnamed girl again. He really wanted to stop calling her that. "What's your name?"

"Amalia," she answered Vaan, her furrowed eyebrows still caused by the glassy-eyed girl being dragged away by an earringed man. Her green eyes were so...unreal. Was that magick?

"Do you know that girl?" Balthier asked Anya, a stern look replacing his usually smug and indifferent countenance. Fran observed the two pairs of Humes with hidden interest.

What would have been tears in a very long time suddenly disappeared from Anya's eyes. Lowering her gaze, she shook her head timidly. "No. Never before have I seen that...woman."

"Anya." Balthier's tone was sharp. "Are you lying to me?"

Only flinching inwardly, Anya glanced up to the man who'd given her a new life. "No. _Tatah_," Anya's lip quivered. "Would I ever lie about this? Believe me..."

_Oh, what a tangled web do parents weave when they think their children are naive..._

Balthier's thoughts were suddenly invaded by _that _man's words. It was mostly the reason why _he_ had turned him into a Ju...Balthier shook his head furiously. He would not be swayed by such madness.

"...I believe you."

How angry he would be later that he let such trust deepen for her; that he let such words escape his lips. But as long as he knew nothing, Anya thought, he would be fine. What one didn't know wouldn't hurt him, he had said himself.

"...nice to meet you," Vaan said to Amalia. She nodded and turned away from the four, her eyes searching the sewers for any forms of movement. Nothing.

"There were others with me." she explained, having felt their eyes burning into her back.

Fran closed her eyes, remembering the bodies her partner had stumbled upon earlier. "I'm sorry."

"No..." Amalia clenched her fist and let out an uncontrolled sigh, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders and it would only take a bit more to make her collapse completely.

Balthier turned away from Amalia as something more scandalous caught his eye. The Magicite in Vaan's hand had begun to glow, beams of light trying to break through the orange stone. "Oh, now isn't that impressive."

Vaan narrowed his eyes at his three companions and held the Magicite close. "Don't get any ideas. I said it's mine."

Fran ignored him.

"That's all right," Anya smiled, a heavy thumping in her chest. She was thankful only she could feel it. "It is no longer mine to take."

Balthier shot the two teenagers an appalled look. "I'm afraid the jury's still out on those two!"

Amalia faced the four again and scoffed. "You stole that?"

"Yeah!" Vaan gave her a proud grin, completely oblivious of the glare she was giving him and the other three.

"Have you finished?" Fran asked, looking around impatiently. It seemed she was the only one thinking rationally. Or thinking at all! "When the guards don't report in, they'll come looking for us."

"If they aren't already," Balthier added.

"You should come with us. Better than being by yourself," Vaan suggested a little too eagerly. Balthier didn't know if he should have been amused or amazed by Vaan's ignorance. Ah, well. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"...Very well," she sighed. Balthier wasn't too happy with the fact that this Amalia seemed reluctant, even forced, to go with them; if it was honor and gallantry she wanted, after all, she could leave. The less people to give their positions away, the better.

Fran was now too involved with her own thoughts to pay attention to Balthier scolding Vaan, the boy still having absolutely no idea about what was going on, Anya watching the stranger (as she was in Fran's eyes) or counting her recent collection of loot, and the stranger who called herself Amalia trying to keep her distance from them. Hmm. Perhaps she did have enough time to notice what they were doing, but decided not to immerse herself in their affairs for now.

The urge to do so was strong, but showing too much interest in Balthier's affairs would only result in disappointment for her. She knew him well enough to know that he cared, but not enough to speak of what she longed to speak to him about... or perhaps she didn't know him at all. Nevertheless, his recent actions disturbed her. He was less carefree, less laidback. It affected their trips and slowly but noticeably– to her, at least– estranged Anya from him.

**XIIXIIXII**

These people – these thieves– that Vaan boy hadn't known them until this night. He obviously hadn't gotten to know them very well, either, though he had informed her of their identities: they were sky pirates. Now, Amalia considered herself a reasonable woman. So they were pirates (cutpurses, to put things simply). She could put up with them. So they were somewhat clannish and selective, pulling their youngest member along and leaving her with a very talkative Vaan. She could put up with that for a few more hours. So they seemed to look down upon her because she was a member of the Resistance (not an insurgence). Well, she didn't think much of them, either– their leader was a smug Hume with too many rings on his person, their Viera always, well, she didn't do much, but the fact that she was with them spoke rather ill of her, and their other member was a girl who liked to stare at new acquaintances with her obviously unreal green eyes. The three of them were truants, really, and they had nothing to be proud of, but she could stand their presences until they escaped into the outside world. Yes, she was very reasonable – but what they were doing now was completely insane.

They had come near a main end of the Garamsythe, towards a possible exit, when from behind the falls of the elegant sewage system, there ricocheted a perfect sphere of flames, roaring and hissing as it went, until it slowed and landed before The leadernof the sky pirates, taking the shape of a innocent white horse.

Except it was not an innocent white horse; Firemane was its rightful name, with the whip-like flames on its back, and scalding tentacles on each side.

The sky pirate had said that the chances of its appearance were slim, but not unheard of. Indeed, the gods did not smile upon them this eve. The green-eyed girl's interest in the thing was mostly caused by an observation the Viera mentioned having read before: "When the Garamsythe Waterway fills with a thick fog, it is said that the Firemane is galloping its ways and channels, its fiery rage boiling the waters into steam." The young Hume--definitey older than Vaam, though younger than she--seemed interested in anything that had to do with the Mist. What a bizarre topic to take interest in. Although, once, she might have been able to name a pair of siblings who might have seen potential in studying such a thing.

"Yaaaaaaahh! Take this, you burning excuse for a fiend!" was Vaan's new war cry as he unceremoniously did his best to hurl water at the flaming stallion. Its attention was previously on Balthier (the sky pirate leader, whose name she supposed she could utter for now), who had been firing water pellets being created by a rather grumpy Viera, but quickly turned to face the child and his pathetic attempts to harm it. The attempts, Amalia supposed with an almost interested sort of worry, were not as pathetic as they looked, since the Firemane appeared to have gotten very upset and set its glowing eyes on Vaan.

The Firemane scraped its hooves against the dry ground, undoubtedly preparing to do somethingvpainful to the Hume. Vaan's eyes widened as he stopped cupping sewer water into his hands and backing away slightly.

"Guuuuys!" Vaan screeched, running as fast as he could to the sewer gates they'd entered through and away from the Firemane. He shook the gates in a panic, hoping to whoever he believed in that they would slide open.

They were locked now.

Amalia, who lightly seared her hand earlier when she had tried to attack the Firemane, was finished temporarily curing herself and turned to help Fran create more water pellets. Balthier loaded his gun with more bullets than it could take and began to shoot at the horse, aiming to gain its attention.

It wasn't working. The stallion cried out whenever Balthier managed to hit him (which was every time the man fired), but now it was too angry with Vaan and his previous taunts to care.

"We must lead it to the waterfall!" Amalia declared, standing from her position and watching the Firemane hiss every time it galloped into the water. "There's one in the direction whence it came, but-"

"Hey!" The sky pirate girl stepped up to the plate, flailing her arms around in the air and running after the Firemane. Earlier she had been...what HAD she been doing? "Here, _Raksas_! Come at me!"

The stallion craned its neck to see which Hume was yelling at it just in time for it to come face-to-face with the girl's violent...raspberry. Its neigh in reply was terrible, a mix between a pained shriek and a howl. Angrily whinnying at its new target, the Firemane charged forward.

"Anya!" Balthier called, "WHERE have you been?"

"Checking for escape routes, as you instructed!" she said, "I heard a bit of shuffling from the only other exit besides that blasted self-locking gate. We've got to wrap things up now and hide or the Imperials will--oh!"

Anya stepped to the side, allowing the Firemane to dash past her and curtseyed, never finishing her statement. The horse turned, the flame-tentacles on its back seeming to go berserk; it screeched and rushed at her once more. Stepping side-to-side before running at her opponent head on and muttering an incantation, she held her palms back- only to fall to the ground, propel herself against it, and– accompanied by a good-natured Aero spell– successfully jumped over the Firemane. She did not land as gracefully as Balthier would have, but at least she didn't break anything.

"Balthier! Your gun, please!"

Balthier loaded water pellets into the gun before tossing it to Anya, about the same time the Firemane appeared over her unsuspecting figure...or perhaps she was not so unsuspecting, as she pressed herself against the ground and slid backward, on her stomach and under the stallion, sitting up once she was far behind its tail.

Firing as many pellets as she could, Anya stood and slowly led the Firemane– which grew angrier and whose shrieks grew louder with every hit– to the 'waterfall' Amalia had spoken of. After shooting at the stallion for the umpteenth time, Anya finally ran out of bullets. She wondered if the Firemane realized this; much to her dismay, it seemed to snort in scorn at her sudden halt.

The rest received the same helpless look Vaan had sent them just a few moments before.

Amalia caught this signal and swiftly tossed a pellet to Anya, but just as the latter held her hand out to catch it, the Firemane lashed one of its tentacles out and wrapped it around Anya's wrist.

"Anya!"

"Aaagh!" Anya screamed as the Firemane released her. It loomed over her once more, ignoring the water being thrown at it by the others. Anya felt herself squirm and cried out once more as she strove towards the waterfall. The stallion took a moment to rejoice in her pain before beginning to catch up.

This was it. She would die. She would finally be with them... But that girl, that 'Amalia', she was alive. Was it possible that he was alive, too? Did it matter? Would thinking about it prove fruitless, in light of her imminent death?

"Iyaaaaaaagrrruah!" came the Firemane's shrill cry. Anya had entered the waterfall, fully soaking herself. The furious fiend was forced to step back when it had tried to follow her into it andalmost had its fire fully doused. Anya expected it to sizzle down and die like the Flan they had defeated earlier, but the Firemane simply returned to its spherical form of blazing fire and ricocheted out of the area whence it came, retreating just like a fiery little girl who couldn't even swing a sword.

The girl stepped out of the waterfall and slowly paced to Balthier, Fran, and Vaan, who rushed in her direction once she had entered the waterfall. They helped her stand, Amalia watching them as they did. Now that the Firemane was gone, she had lost enough adrenaline to think clearly. Earlier, the girl, the thief, she could barely defend herself! Against the Flan that dropped in from the ceiling she did better, but she had stuck mostly to extracting profitable Caramel from it. When faced with the Firemane...for the first part of the battle she was barely there, but that pattern in which she had infuriated it and baited it... It was all too familiar and it– whatever was familiar about it– was at the tip of her tongue, but she could not remember. Amalia decided that she would have to speak to Anya about it when she had the time.

"Stand where you are!" ordered a stern voice, causing the five to turn around in shock. On the platform above them stood at least ten Imperials with their guns, all of them ready to shoot. So this was what Anya had tried to warn them about. Behind the soldiers was an austere man-- a man Anya vaguely recognized to be Vayne, Rabanastre's newly celebrated Consul.

Amalia recognized him, too. Her face scrunched up; she was about to step forward when Balthier halted her, muttering, "Now's not the time."

Their attention was then drawn by more than a dozen Imperials that had suddenly appeared, some holding shackles to capture them. The new Consul watched his men arrest Amalia, Vaan, Balthier, and Fran.

Still stumbling from the pain caused by the Firemane, Anya hid her right arm behind her back when an Imperial attempted to cuff her.

"Stupid girl, there's no way out of this! Surrender already!"

"No, you buckethead!" Vaan yelled, beginning to struggle. "You're going to hurt her!"

"I won't hesitate to if she doesn't stop this," replied the soldier. "Just let me-"

"You're going to rupture her growing blisters and cause an infection with those manacles," Balthier informed the man. He didn't think the dog would take pity on her, but he had to try.

"Is that it?"

He'd thought so.

Despite the others' protests, Vayne had Anya bound like the rest of them. The heavy weight of the shackles and its rusting edges made her dizzy. She strained her neck, clenched her fist, stiffened her shoulders--all to keep herself awake and ignore the pain while doing so, but failed.

No longer could Anya feel the Imperial forcefully prodding her to walk faster with his crossbow, nor could she hear Vaan's unyielding screams to release her. She took one step forward, her mind wandering far from where she really was. Increasing in size by the second, bright, diamond-shaped shots of white light blinked across her line of sight before her vision began to fade...stealing her consciousness away with it as it did.

* * *

_Amba_ - Mother in Bhujerban

_Tatah_ - Father in Bhujerban

_Madhu_ - a wine beverage

_Raksas_ - Monster in Bhujerban

Also! The 'Oh, what a tangled web do parents weave...' thought was originally quoted from Ogden Nash (I don't mean in the story, I mean in real life). But in the story it was said to Balthier by another character before the story started.

Hmm, is there anything to explain here? Yep, I stuck with most of the old dialogue, and changed some descriptions. This time we see Amalia's point of view when they fight the Firemane instead of Fran's. I figured since Fran's going to have a lot of...er...screen time before Amalia pops up again anyway, that I should let Amalia have her turn thinking this time. :p

If you need me to explain anything to you, reader, feel free to PM me! I'll be glad to answer questions as long as they aren't too spoilerific. The spoilerificity (it's a word now!) depends on each question, so don't be afraid to ask if you're confused about something!

So! Constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated again! XD And thank you very much for reading:)


	4. Chapter 3

Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

Update! Although this is an old update that I just tweaked. I'll tell you when the next actual chapter is coming (next chapter meaning the chapter I was about to post before I decided to revise the story a bit). Still, enjoy! R&R please! (Also, reviews are replied to after every chapter.)

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Anya hurriedly pressed the furnished doors to Bhujerba's new tavern open. It was The Cloudborne's Grand Opening! In retrospect, it was nothing compared to her sixteenth birthday part–no, wait. There was nothing to look back upon. There was nothing to look back upon. Her birthday party was a meal with a kind Moogle on the streets of Balfonheim, where she lived with busy distant relatives. Anya rubbed her hands on her face. In any case, Balthier had told her to meet him and Fran here. The Cloudborne was E-shaped, save the line in the center that, in the tavern's structure, protruded from its 'back'. Two doors guarded the tavern at each side of the protuberance. Anya had entered through the right._

_She soon found out that maybe it didn't matter, as the two doors led to the same tavern; there were no divisions despite her expectations. Now it truly seemed like a Grand Opening. No wonder the streets of Bhujerba had been empty! Humes, Bangaa, Seeq, Moogles, _Parijanah_, and _Sainikah_ crowded the main bar, gleefully shouting for food and drink for their friends and companions. Those who preferred to watch this amusing show of camaraderie occupied the tables and chairs scattered around the tavern and took the time to admire the cool tones of green and yellow that painted its walls._

_They were not here. Had they left her? It had only been six months since she joined them, but Anya believed they had grown close enough not to leave each other...or her, in this case._

_"Lost, little girl?" asked a guttural voice from behind her._

_The voice belonged to a Bangaa carrying a lance with a circular chainsaw at its tip over his shoulder. A mixture of white, pigment green and light indigo, he wore gauntlets and armor for his upper torso that consisted mostly of belts and little padding; baggy, dark salmon pants covered his lower half. Standing over her with his two hand-like feet, the Bangaa bared his teeth at her, possibly in an attempt to give her a nice smile._

_"No, sir," she replied. Oops! Balthier had told her many times to stop saying sir. "I'm waiting for my _Amba_ and my _Tatah_."_

_"Is that what you call him? Father?" The Bangaa gave a terrifying laugh. "Use that term sparingly, child, or your precious Balthier will disclaim you just as easily as he has evaded me! I search for him as well, and finally he told me to...meet him here. Why don't you accompany me?"_

_"No thank you." Anya was careless and shot him a suspicious look. "_Tat_– Balthier never said anything about meeting any Bangaa today..."_

_The Bangaa's already unusually fake features suddenly became terribly distorted as she refused him. "You'll come with me, brat," he demanded, raising his lance and activating the chainsaw on it. "Or you'll not see that fool again!"_

_Anya stared at the Bangaa, frozen in fear. She turned her head and closed her eyes, anticipating the pain she knew was coming._

_Perhaps she should have chosen the left door._

_"Anastacia, dear?"_

_Anastacia blinked many times before she could remember where she was: one of the much smaller dining rooms in the Marquis' estate. Unlike the main dining hall, this place was too small for musicians to join them, and no helpers entered while they ate. 'They' consisted of father, Uncle-King Raminas, Sir, Captain, Uncle Halim, Ashelia, Rasler, and herself._

_Father had called her._

_"Y-yes, papa?"_

_"Your father was simply worried that he was boring you out of your mind, little one," Uncle-King Raminas chuckled, earning amused laughs from the rest of the adults at the table._

_Uncle-King Raminas, still with a full head of dark blond locks, and father, with the sandy brown hair he had passed down to his two children, sat at the opposite heads of the silk-covered dining table. Anastacia sat to her father's right or was adjacent to him; Rasler was beside her, kicking Ashelia who was forced to stay across him (she kicked back with more force, so they were currently engaged in a foot-fight; the adults noticed but thought they were being playful and let it pass). To Rasler's own right was an again amused Marquis Ondore. Beside or adjacent to the latter was King Raminas, and across Uncle Halim sat what Anastacia knew was a Captain of the Dalmascan Army. She called him – the raven, curly yet stuck up-haired (his hair really __did go up somehow!) man who came with Sir – Captain because she could never remember his name._

_Ashelia was at the Captain's right, too (Anastacia's left), and adjacent to father, across her and beside Ashelia, sat Sir. She knew his name! Really, she did, but she called him Sir so often (and never once did he complain or correct her), so that must have been the reason why Anastacia could not remember it. His face was so familiar, but today it seemed so much younger, and she didn't know why. It was odd seeing him in casual clothing, as she had only ever seen him in armor before and the only part of his body that she saw was his head. On it was his naturally slicked back, golden blond hair which Anastacia so admired. She wagered that if Rasler had the same hair, Ashelia wouldn't be so opposed to marrying him. Not that Anastacia wanted them to marry, either...besides, father disliked wagering as it was a waste of valuable, valuable money. He said one could run around the entire capital and still not find a single Gil to his name._

_For some reason, Anastacia didn't need to look around to know that on the walls behind them, there hung Galbana lily-shaped, Fira-lit lamps that illuminated the room. Anastacia fiddled around with her knife and her fork before she realized that her hands were small. They belonged to a six year-old child's, she knew, but now that she had noticed it, they felt natural and contented her somewhat._

_Captain, Uncle-King Raminas, and Uncle Halim continued to talk about whatever it was they were talking about before while Rasler and Ashelia continued to kick each other from below the table._

_"...As I was saying," said father after addressing Sir, unknowingly drawing Anastacia's attention, "A word of advice: Life is a game. All you need to do is learn how to play it."_

_A troubled look replaced Sir's usually peaceful expression. "With all due respect, Your Royal Majesty, that seems an odd philosophy for a King."_

_"Is it not? But it's the only way to go by, what with all these deaths and terrible happenings in life..." Father said this with a very sad look on his face. Anastacia knew he spoke of mother, and suddenly she felt guilty. Father glanced up from his reverie and smiled, shaking his head. She thought he was probably trying to let go of the memory of mother. "But I digress, and offer a sort of follow-up for that statement," he sent out a melancholic laugh, but only at the back of her mind did Anastacia know this. "If life does not offer you a game worth playing, sir, then... invent a new one. It's the only way to keep one's sanity..."_

_Anastacia watched the Sir nod obediently. "An interesting belief, Your Majesty. But perhaps you should mind not to let your children hear such words at a young age?" His eyes landed on Anastacia, who looked away in embarrassment._

_Father laughed in amusement now. "Ah, yes, perhaps you're right. Anastacia..."_

_"Papa...?" she glanced up to her father again._

_"Isn't it about time you prepared for your brother's wedding?"_

_"Hmm?" Anastacia gave her father an odd look. Ashe and Rasler were still kicking each other, so how were they to wed? Anastacia shuddered. Or even...kiss? No one else seemed to notice this error in continuity and went on with their activities. Sir simply watched Uncle-King Raminas for his response, but Nabradia's princess insisted. "Papa, what do you-"_

_"That is right!" Uncle-King Raminas sagely nodded his head. "You should go, Anastacia, or you're going to be late. You don't wish to be late for your own brother's marriage ceremony, do you?"_

_"Well, no- but-" Anastacia felt a sudden sense of anxiety and an irrational fear that the wedding would start without her. Pushing herself and her chair away from the table, she hopped off her seat and turned towards the door._

Goodbye...

_A wave of realization came over the princess. She had to leave for the wedding, but this would be the last time. The last time she could..._

_Biting her lip slowly and turning around, she ran to her father and tackled him into a crushing embrace._

_"I love you, papa..." she cried, tears ungracefully streaming down her face. Anastacia didn't know how or why, but she knew she would not see him again after this. Although she knew it was futile, she begged, "Please don't leave me."_

_Her father gladly returned her embrace, but obviously did not understand her sadness. "I shan't ever leave you, little one. I love you," he whispered, leaving a fatherly kiss on her forehead before releasing her. She knew he was not aware of how much he would be proven wrong, so Anastacia allowed him to gently shove her towards the door behind Uncle-King Raminas. "Now, go. Ashelia will be distressed without you."_

_"I know." Anastacia nodded. Closig her eyes so she would never look back, she ran forward. The door nearly broke open as she entered andopened her eyes, trying not to cry anymore. She gasped, astonished at the fact that she had arrived at the large doors of Rabanastre's great Cathedral so immediately._

_Easily getting used to the fact that the door she came from had disappeared, Anastacia flung her head around in desperation and tried to make sure that her heart had not leapt out of her chest just yet. Was she late? She glanced down to her dress, ignoring her sudden growth spurt into a sixteen year old. Her short turquoise dress was fine, and still fit to dance with, but...she was barefooted!_

_And there was the parade, coming closer to the Cathedral by the second! Anastacia panicked and sped into the Cathedral, planning to ask someone– anyone– if they had extra footwear. Everyone was to enter after Rasler was at the altar, so there was no one who possibly had extra shoes in sight...except the preacher!_

_Would he have shoes? No matter, she had to at least try, else she would be the laughing-stock of the ceremony! Sprinting across the marble aisle, Anast-_

_"Oh!" she gasped, bouncing off the preacher whom she had bumped into in all her haste. "I'm so sorry, sir, I was just-"_

_The preacher turned around and gave her an angry glare. Her eyes widened._

_"B-B-Balthier?"_

_"What did we say about the past?" he slowly asked her, still dressed in his preacher garb. It was very odd, but Anya didn't think that at the moment._

_"It is..." Anya shook her head violently. "It is __not..."_

_"It is meant to be forgotten!" Balthier yelled, slamming his fist against the altar. Exasperatedly, he ran his fingers through his hair. That had never happened before. He had never yelled at her before. Scolded, but he had never completely lost his composure... "Or have you yourself _forgotten_ what happened the last time you tried to cling to it?"_

_Turning around, Anya saw Fran's unmoving body on the aisle before her. The Viera carried fourteen stab wounds, most of them on her knees, legs, and arms. Tears rushed out of Anya's eyes once more as she watched thick red blood seep from Fran's wounds._

_"Mama!" Anya knelt beside her and tried to shake her awake. "Mama, don't go! I'm sorry, I won't do it again!" she sobbed, "I promise I won't ever, ever leave you again..."_

"Anya?"

The sharp nails softly pressing against her skin bothered Anya and prompted her to open her eyes. Tears blurred her vision and she had much trouble breathing.

"A nightmare?" asked Fran, dusting the girl's hair as she helped her sit up on the filthy ground of their dungeon cell. The Viera subtly felt Anya's wet back; indeed, she had awoken in cold sweat, but Fran said nothing and waited for her reply.

"Yes," Anya wiped her brow and stood up, still leaning on Fran. By her feet lay an unconscious Vaan, a red bump evident on the back of his head, and the rotting corpse of an unknown Bangaa beside him. Sitting cross-legged on a ledge ahead of her with a distant expression on his face, Balthier rested his right elbow on his knee and his chin on his right hand.

Cobwebs were the main decoration for their cell, and, Anya guessed, for the entire dungeon. Hearing tiny grains of debris falling from the ceiling to the objects below (one of them her head), she glanced up, only to shield her eyes immediately. The center of the ceiling had openings, but they were all just small windows and they were too high and too small for anyone to reach or fit into. She stopped coughing only once the dust from the debris cleared and she realized that their 'cell' wasn't so much a cell as it was an open room leading to the main dungeon containing the rest of the prisoners.

Walking towards their so-called cell's entrance, Anya looked to Fran and Balthier. "Nalbina?" she asked. "The layout is similar to its Fortress' bottom level..."

"Interesting that you would know such a thing," replied Balthier, turning to see her finally awake, "But yes, it is. Where else would they have thrown us?"

"I'm not sure," Anya answered, pretending to shrug innocently as she stared at her right wrist. No doubt the shackles that previously bound her punctured the blisters, but it seemed someone had disinfected her wrist and lightly bandaged it. Silently, she thanked Fran. "That _Raksas_ still has my mind befuddled. Deliberately missed giving me a third degree burn by a whisker, I'd say, to cause me more suffering. Do you think it's possible for such a creature to think like that? How long have we been here? What of our escape route?"

"I care not, I know not, and nothing yet." Balthier groaned. "Too many questions, why don't you sit down?"

Fran watched Anya narrow her eyes at Balthier in annoyance before she herself spoke again. "I was about to search for an escape route. Do any of you wish to come?"

Balthier shook his head and sighed as if making the decision to stay was the hardest in Ivalice. "Why don't you accompany Fran, Anya? I'll stay here with Vaan and make sure he doesn't have a heart attack when he wakes up. He is new to this, after all."

Fran resisted the growing urge to roll her eyes. The only thing that amazed her now was the fact that Balthier actually wasn't complaining about how filthy the dungeon was. Not that he was what Anya called a _whiner_, but... oh, all right, he griped. Quite a lot. But she knew it was only because it was part of his _charm_...or whatever he wanted to call it. "Anya?"

"I'll go with you," she agreed to his wishes easily today. Her right wrist still stung, but busying herself with a goal was better than rotting away in a dungeon cell. "Oh, where did Ash-mmmm...I mean, where did that Amalia girl go?"

"Leaders of the insurgence get special treatment, I suppose," Balthier muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he closed his eyes. "Does it really matter to you? Were you playing a game with her?"

"I wasn't." Anya glared at the cobwebs that adorned the room. "So no, I suppose it doesn't."

"Then we leave." Hostility, hostility, such hostility. The whole business of it sickened Fran. They were together because no such thing was supposed to exist among them, were they not? Friendly jest, yes, but not hostility. She rested her eyes for a moment. Hmm, perhaps the dungeon was their cause of frustration. It wasn't the first time they had been arrested, but it was the first time they were in a prison for more than three hours. By this time, she would have secured the escape route and Anya and Balthier would have looted the place and distracted their captors.

Their captors. She and Balthier had been blindfolded when they were forced into the dungeons (Anya and Vaan were unconscious), and this area of the fortress was surely sealed off, but it was only logical for an entrance and exit used by the Empire to exist. Whether it be by force or magicks, she would be able to find a way to leave such dreadful a place. Hopefully.

Anya wrapped her arms around Fran's right as they walked out of their cell. It was normal when she, Balthier, and Fran herself were alone, but here? The child held her with much more care and fear than usual. It reminded her of when Mrj-

"_Amba_, look, a well!" Anya exclaimed, letting go of Fran's arm and running towards her new distraction. The square-shaped well Anya spoke of was at the center of that area in the prison. They had followed a small flight of stairs once out of the room to reach it, though Fran had noticed that there was another open path east of the stairs.

Anya leaned over the grimy well curiously, only to learn that it was completely empty. It was just a hole. A big, deep square hole that continued to give false hope to the temporary residents of the dungeons. Temporary because it was clear that they would die soon. Across her, a malnourished Bangaa flicked its tongue at the well thirstily. "W-water..."

Fran shook her head as Anya's loud announcement drew the attention of a number of prisoners in the area. They were few, but enough to cause her to increase her already heightened wariness. She and Anya were the only female prisoners here, she realized, and these men had spent a moon too many without a woman. They seemed to be unaware of each other as they each advanced at their own pace.

"Hello, little miss," said a Hume man's voice behind Fran. "Need some help?"

"No thank you," Anya replied, taking a few steps back from the prisoner that had approached her. He must have been one of the older prisoners, for he wore ragged clothing and dirt and sand seemed affixed to his dry skin. "Unless you know a way out of here."

"I don't know the way out," said the man, gripping Anya's right wrist and causing her to hiss painfully, "But if you come with me, I'll bring you to a paradise you'll never want to go from."

"I said no thank you." The prisoner's grip on her was too strong, but... "And you've nothing for me to take; with what would you bring me to paradise?"

The man released her bandages and checked his clothes. Something was missing... His nostrils flared as he looked back to her. "Stupid girl, how dare you-"

He stopped. Standing before him now was the other woman he thought he would aim for after he took the little girl. She stared him down with a slight frown.

He put on his best smile, but the prisoner could not help his twitching. "H-hello, li-"

Fran lifted her right leg and kicked him down the well; his screams resounded throughout the steadily deteriorating walls of the Nalbina fortress.

She turned around and glared at the rest of the males, as if to say, 'Let this be a warning.' It took a few moments, but the rest of the prisoners understood that they were not to be trifled with. Well, the Viera definitely wasn't, but the little girl was safe only as long as that beauty was with her.

Anya hurried back to Fran, who began backtracking, as she had decided that they needed to take the path east of the well. "Odd," Anya remarked. "What paradise was that silly man talking about?"

"It is better you do not know." Fran answered, and that was the end of that. Now that she thought of it, Anya never spoke out against her decisions or orders. She could only wish Balthier was as docile, but then they would not be so alike if he were. Under different circumstances did Anya leave her home; different in that she had no longer had one. She was indebted to them. Balthier willingly, even forcibly, gave everything up to be free...with her? She could only wish.

Jahara, in the Bancour Region. Yes, that was the setting of their first meeting. She had been collecting supplies from a friend of hers, a Garif, in exchange for caring for a few of his tribe's _Nanna_ when a distinctly Archadian airship crashed right outside their village. Once she convinced her Garif comrade that the one man she had found in the 'blasted piece of machinery', as he called it, was not hostile, the tribe allowed her to care for the Hume in their village so long as he left with his airship the moment he recov-

"Those Seeq are-!" Fran clamped Anya's mouth shut– in surprise and only in mild annoyance at the interruption– as soon as she opened it. The two were on the right path, but what a dangerous path it was. This following area was more 'open' in a sense that one could escape if he were to find a way to climb out of the large opening in the ceiling. Tall, narrow pillars of Nabradian design circled the opening and shielded the surrounding area from sunlight. Dug directly below the light was a small, square-shaped arena enclosed by metal bars, and each side of the square had vertical doors that were currently closed.

Closed, for inside the arena was a very vulnerable Bangaa cornered by three barbarous Seeq. Their crude clubs brutally connected with the Bangaa's side, mouth, spine, and anywhere the Seeq could reach, causing the defenseless prisoner to hack up blood with every hit from every wound in his body. Still covering Anya's mouth with her right hand, Fran made sure to stay behind the pillars and out of sight.

"It's best we keep out of such troublesome affairs," Fran whispered to the Hume, only releasing her once they came to the agreement that she would say nothing. Anya knew she couldn't have done anything anyway. She was just as defenseless as that Bangaa and would be just as battered if she intervened; a mere cutpurse would never be able to stand up to those savages.

Fran cocked her head from behind the pillar and observed two branches of stairs on the second floor of the coliseum that merged in the center of the room and led up to a steel gate. Whether its bars could be opened by magic or mere lock picking she did not know, and she certainly wouldn't venture to find out. It was too conspicuous to approach; surely there was another way out.

Anya helplessly watched the poor Bangaa give his last breath. It struck her deeply, for she kept a Bangaa close to her own heart, a Bangaa who had never once failed to engage her in playful sport, and their resemblance frightened her. The Seeq tossed his body to the side as they lumbered out of the arena to find another victim. Quietly following Fran to another exit the Viera had found, Anya saw that the Seeq's next target was a red Bangaa. The new prey fell from one of the higher floors of the coliseum-like area. He glanced up, but at the shrill cries of his predators the lone prisoner shrieked and started to crawl away. A futile attempt, as the Seeq effortlessly jumped down after him and pounded their clubs upon him as they did the previous Bangaa.

"No, don't!"

Vaan! The towheaded boy one year her junior had caught the violent Seeq's attention...where was Balthier? He was sure to be their mark once they slaughtered this Bangaa!

"Anya, we must go." Fran tugged at her left arm, having failed to notice Vaan. Did she not want to rid herself of this show of cruelty?

"Go on ahead," Anya whispered back, unable to take her worried eyes off the boy she now considered her real friend. "I'll follow."

Fran nodded hesitantly and squeezed Anya's arm. "Be safe," she said, and disappeared into her aimed passage.

What was she to do now? Save Vaan from the Seeq? Granted, they were not as civilized as she thought they were, but she had Seeq acquaintances back in Rabanastre! Not that she could ever understand what they were mumbling about and always required some sort of translator, but still...theirs was a terrible game that even she would not engage in.

And even if she did, the red Bangaa was dead.

"He was defenseless..." muttered Vaan cautiously as the two Seeq advanced towards him. He took a step backward with each of theirs forward and realized all too late his mistake. He watched with mixed fear and displeasure as the two Seeq snorted to each other. What could they be talking about? How to kill him? How they would hammer their spiked clubs at him? Where were Fran and Anya? Would he ever see Penelo again? Oh, what he would give right now to hear the constant nagging he received from her everyday. Maybe he should have listened to Balthier... But before he could continue his list of regrets for the past two days, the last Seeq of the trio jumped down from the second floor and clubbed him unconscious.

Penelo was going to kill him.

Anya shook her head and moved to confront the three Seeq (whom she decided to be in the same level as the fiends in the sewers) without a thought as to how she would defend herself, but another Hume stood before her and served to be a momentary distraction. She watched him distrustfully, because she saw in his eyes the same corrupted gaze the previous Hume had. This man deserved to be here.

"Where did your beautiful friend go, little girl?" he asked, looking around for Fran. Anya slowly backed away from him. The duration of his stay here was not as long as the other strange Hume, as the only physically disgusting thing about him was his mud-smeared hair and the raunchy vibe it emitted from him (and that wasn't the only foul thing he emitted), but he seemed to be just as crazed as the first one.

"Somewhere you are not," she answered, bending her knees slightly and preparing to run in the direction Fran had left for earlier. She had to save herself before she could save Vaan, didn't she?

"I see," the smelly man sighed. He looked to his left and right. "Then I suppose you will have to do!"

Anya skipped three steps backward to avoid the prisoner's sudden yet expected pounce. "You would have me settle as a second choice?"

"I'll settle for no less," replied the man, who suddenly carried a knife in his right hand. Anya's eyes widened. The game seemed to have gotten a mite more complicated, but she had the perfect rules to apply to this one.

Stepping forward with her right foot, Anya caught the man's wrist just as he lunged forward to stab her from above. She turned around in a half-twirl, still holding the man's wrist above her, before she flipped him over and threw him to the ground.

"You'll have to settle for nothing, you..." Anya paused as she noticed the prisoner lying on the ground, painfully groaning and holding his back. She gasped. "I...I...I attacked you! Ha! Ahahahaha! I actually–actually–a Hume! I win! _Tatah_ will be so–gaahk!"

Repeated stabs at her feet stopped Anya's celebration and caused her to steadily hop on one foot to the other. Tired of the surprisingly persistent girl, the prisoner tricked Anya and broke the pattern by stabbing in one direction twice. He missed intentionally, but the girl had finally tripped. He stood and almost cherishingly stared at his 'prize', silently congratulating himself. There the girl lay, her elbows scraped against the ground and the bandage around her right wrist gone. She was too weak to stop him, and as he crouched over her helpless figure and stepped on her bandage tauntingly, he wondered how she got thrown into the dungeons in the first place. Ehh, no use troubling over what was done; what mattered was that he had the girl now.

"Mind if I cut in?"

The prisoner turned around, only to meet someone's hard fist with his face. His attacker wasted no time in grabbing him by the shoulders and kneeing him in the face and the stomach before throwing him aside, unconscious.

As he helped her stand, Anya glanced up to the man she now owed her gratitude, but found that she had owed it to him long before this moment.

"_Tatah_!"

"Oh, now look what he's done." Balthier pointed to Anya's bare right wrist. Without another word, he opened his vest and tore off a piece of cloth from his white undershirt. And as if things couldn't get any more unusual, Anya noted that Balthier's undershirt had already been ripped. When could that have happened? He disliked it when his clothes were under quality in any way! She then noticed her previous bandage, the one that had been befouled by that loathsome prisoner.

Suddenly, Anya felt terrible about the contempt she had been harboring for him earlier.

Balthier proceeded to wrap the newly torn cloth around her wrist. Patting her head lightly and making sure not to expose her genuine hair by accident, he said, "Will you be fine now? It seems you're not the only one in need of the leading man..." He turned around and motioned to the arena, whose doors had suddenly closed in on Vaan and his three Seeq assailants.

Anya gave Balthier a grateful smile. "Yes... Forgive me."

He looked back to her and gave her a confused grin. "For what?"

"Disobeying you."

Before Balthier could ask when and how, the three Seeq's grunts called to him. "Find Fran and tell her about us," he instructed her, jogging towards the arena. "We'll be needing that escape route soon!"

Two areas away, Fran had managed to find the nearly perfect escape route, its one flaw being that...it could not be opened. Strong magick bound the door shut, and even if she were powerful enough to open it, she did not know the spell needed to do so. Besides, she felt the...ah, never mind. How was she to deliver such aggravating news to Balthier? Not to say that she feared him, but was there anyone who appreciated disappointment? She hoped he would not feel such towards her and that they were all still alive as she made her way back to the arena. After all, Humes had the exceptional ability of getting themselves and their companions into unwanted trouble...

Balthier especially. How strongly he resisted swift recovery with his constant thrashing about in his sleep and subconscious refusal of the Garif's distasteful yet effective medicine. The Garif had even required the War-Chief's aid in pinning him down just to give him a decent change of clothes as he angrily murmured and cried about insanity and broken families... When he awoke, however, he was so pleasant that the Garif agreed to let him stay a few more days until his airship was repaired. But Fran had watched him, and when he was away from the Garif's watchful eyes, she knew he wore a mask hardier than any they could ever craft.

"_Amba_, there you are!"

Fran and Anya gazed upon each other with obvious relief. She didn't want to admit it, but Fran was genuinely amazed that her little Hume was still alive. And glad, of course, but still shocked. She filled Fran in on all the details of her survival and Vaan's (hopefully), and the Viera was glad that she had disregarded her previous spite for Balthier as they reached the coliseum.

The place was...quiet. The prisoners had cleared out of the area, all of them, except Balthier and Vaan, who were still stuck inside the arena, the bodies of the three unconscious Seeq piled together beside them. As Fran moved closer to the pillars surrounding it, she saw the reason for the sudden silence and why the two were crouched directly below the steel gate she had noted earlier.

Imperials. The lot of them had lined up by the stairs and made way for their captain, or whatever the pigs wanted to call their immediate leaders. Following said man was a vicious-looking Bangaa. And vicious that monster certainly was, thought Fran. Following the brute were two more Bangaa, though it was obvious that the first was the head of the group. Ba'Gamnan was the name of their_ benevolent_ leader. Fran knew all too well the reason for his appearance, but she was determined never to allow him to fulfill his goal. Whatever it took...she and the others had to open that door.

"Ugh. They're relentless, aren't they?" Anya groaned at the sight of Ba'Gamnan. He had been the reason for many of her nightmares, not excluding her latest. She had the scar on her ankle to prove that valid, but comforted herself with the fact that he didn't have his weapon– the Ba'Gangsaw– with him today.

Nodding in agreement with Anya, Fran stealthily made her way towards one of the arena's gates and managed to pull it up slightly. Balthier immediately noticed her and alerted Vaan as he tiptoed to the gate, frequently looking back to Ba'Gamnan and the Imperials.

"Through the oubliette, there's a way out," Fran told him before she looked away. "Only..."

"Only you sense the Mist." As Balthier nodded in understanding and crouched to crawl out of the arena. Fran felt a burden being lifted from her person, and then her unguarded eyes met Vaan's. For a moment the stubborn Rabanastran thought he saw relief in them, but the nonchalant gaze he first thought she would have replaced it after he blinked in shock.

"Then we'll need weapons," Balthier stated, dusting sand off his sleeves as Vaan followed his actions. Vaan turned to Fran and tried to find any expression other than what seemed to be indifference to no avail; he wondered if it was really just his imagination before. Then again, why bother? He wasn't counting on knowing these three for too long, anyway. Maybe Anya, or Adela, as he once knew her, but since she was a Sky Pirate and the two adults seemed to care about her a lot, they probably wouldn't let her come back to Rabanastre after being thrown into the dungeons...oh, man. He was in for one of Penelo's dreary sermons when he got back. Vaan could already see Penelo morphing into a Behemoth, tearing her wing-like shoulder guard things off, and angrily stabbing him in places that hurt. Ouch. Eegh.

The mental image of Penelo's creepy but possible transformation faded from his mind as the green Bangaa and Imperial with the face (he was the only one whose visor was lifted) started arguing. Vaan turned to watch his three companions observe them with mixed interest and anxiety. Yeah, he wanted to leave, too. Now. If he weren't able to imagine Fran scolding him the way Amalia did in Rabanastre, he would complain.

"Eh?" The green Bangaa stopped tugging at his ears and turned around to face the Imperial with the face (Anya said he could be a captain, but she wasn't sure). Vaan cringed inwardly at the sight of the headhunter, as the captain called him. The rings on his lower lip and the rest of his face made him look repulsive. "What's that you say now?" the ugly Bangaa said in a very threatening tone of voice. "Maybe I'll whet my blade on you...before I kill Balthier!"

The rest of the Imperials stiffened at this blatant death threat and readied their blades. Vaan just stared at Balthier in bewilderment. He must have been a really good Sky Pirate if headhunters wanted him badly enough to need Imperials to escort them!

"That's enough, Ba'Gamnan."

Vaan and Anya looked to each other in shock as Ba'Gamnan– that must have been the name of the Bangaa, Vaan thought– so obediently followed this order. Much better and obviously stronger armor clearly distinguished the Imperial that emerged from the steel gate as one of the higher-ups of the Imperial Army, his black cape billowing behind him. He stepped down to their level, and his helmet, which had symmetrical curved, inverted horns at the side, shielded his face from their sharp eyes. Hmph. Vaan didn't know why he had to hide his face, but he didn't care, either. He bet the guy's face couldn't be of any interest, anyway.

"A judge," Fran spat.

Vaan stared at her in wonder. "Judge?"

Balthier snorted at the word. "Hmph. The self-proclaimed guardians of law and order in Archadia. They're the Elite Guard of House Solidor, which effectively makes them the commanders of the Imperial Army. If you ask me, they're more executioners than judges. Not a friendly lot, at any rate," he grimly explained. "What are they doing here?"

Vaan watched with ever growing curiosity as the captain bowed to this 'Judge'. Even Ba'Gamnan stepped out of his way, just as the Judge spoke.

"The Emperor is willing to overlook race for his more talented servants. However, those that do not show respect will receive none in kind."

Ba'Gamnan frowned impatiently. "Your Honor-"

"You travel freely through our lands because the Emperor wills it. Am I correct?"

"Bah..." Ba'Gamnan growled in defeat, throwing his hands in the air and turning around grudgingly. Anya kept her eyes on the Judge Magister as he walked down the left branch of the stairs in the dignified manner she expected him to stride in. She disliked him, and maybe even hated him for what his kind had done to hers, but the fact that he put Ba'Gamnan down so easily ingratiated him with her somewhat.

The itch to escape swiftly rose in Vaan once more as the Judge Magister left Ba'Gamnan to search for Balthier with his two other Bangaa friends. They intimidated him more than the Bangaa he met at Clan Centurio the day before; not that he would ever show it. He was about to start egging the others on to leave already, but Balthier beat him to it. He said something about the hare following the fox. Was he talking about Fran? Because that would be really mean. And what did a hare have to do with a fox? Didn't he mean turtle? Would he have to learn all these terms when he became a Sky Pirate?

"The Magicks binding the door to the oubliette are quite strong," Fran replied to Vaan's questioning look. She didn't seem to mind that 'hare' thing, so he guessed it was okay. "Too strong even for my talents."

"Then how are we g-"

"I thought you would know by now, Anya," Balthier grinned, placing an urging hand on Vaan's left shoulder before releasing him to lead the group. "We're going to get _them_ to open it for us."

Vaan blinked at all of them in confusion. "How is going deeper into this place-"

"What's wrong?" Balthier snapped, causing him to step back in surprise and bump into Fran. He looked to her apologetically while she stared at him with curiosity, which he mistook for irritation. Honestly, Fran had never dealt with a Hume child besides Anya and was contemplating on how she would treat this new one. "You don't trust her?" her partner continued. "Viera's noses are sharp. If she says there's a way out, there's a way out."

Vaan shrugged and followed the three Sky Pirates to the passage Fran had found. On the way, they discovered what Balthier called the 'prison repository of resting relics and railments' or...something. Raiments? Railments? What was the difference? He couldn't pay attention, having been too busy laughing at the song Anya called her 'Ode to My Assassin's Dagger (Not That I Can Kill With It)' and their joy-filled reunion. It was a good distraction for the next Imperial-flooded area, and Vaan was lighthearted as he, Anya, Fran and Balthier slid past the guards and into the room Fran spoke of with the door to the oubliette.

They followed the Judge and his accompanying Imperials to the blue door at the center of the large new area. Anya did not recognize the blue door, whose design consisted of vines (artificial, of course) coiled around its entirety, so she assumed that it was built by Archadia at the beginning of their occupation. She and Vaan were the most amazed as they spied on an Imperial Magus uttering a spell before the door. He faced his palms to each other as if holding an invisible sphere, and true enough, a translucent ball of glimmering bright Azure appeared in the space between his hands. Inside the sphere, a snowflake of the same shade shone even brighter.

The door reacted positively to the Magus' words, beginning to emit light as well, and with a bright flash of electric blue, the vines recoiled. They slinked back behind the door, which opened itself for the taciturn Judge. Once all the Imperials had entered, Balthier stepped forward and stood before their escape route. He grinned knowingly, his plan having worked, and motioned for the rest to follow.

"Wait," Anya held her right hand up as she searched her pouch with her left. "I think I dropped a few phials on the way here."

"Can't you just buy more in the city later?" Vaan asked, looking to the door anxiously. It hadn't closed yet, but right now he didn't want the possibility of being stuck here existing.

"No!" Anya frowned at him, holding her pouch close. "I worked hard for those phials and I need new ones if we're to survive this escape. I'm sure the Empire has chests full of them around here. That and there are no more Imperials in this area, and even if there are, I'm careful enough. Better my footsteps alone than all of ours."

"Fine," Balthier waved his hand at her dismissively. "We'll try to keep the door open for you, but I didn't quite catch that spell...so go, but go with haste."

Anya nodded as her three companions entered the enchanted door before she sprinted off in the direction of her missing phials. She lied when she said she had worked _hard_ for those bottles, for the only vials that were missing from her pouch were the ones she had labeled 'From Monid' before. Well, the label should have been 'Stolen from Monid', but there was no more space on the cork...honest. Still determined to return all she had stolen from the Bangaa (and if she could not, she would have to repay him with Gil), Anya stalked around the area for them and found that she was wrong. There were still more Imperials, but she could use that to her advantage. In place of chests she was given people, and this class of people had so many pockets in their armor. Thankfully, the room was dark, damp, and there was a chilly wind blowing all of a sudden, which made it easy to keep the Archadians believing that the sudden loss of their items (and her new ones) was revenge from prisoners from beyond the grave– which wasn't completely inaccurate, she thought at the back of her mind. Ha ha, silly Imperials. Ha ha! Although she did wonder if those prisoners from beyond the grave had helped make her footsteps a little lighter just then.

When Monid's items were replaced-- rather, accounted for, Anya returned to their treasured escape route. She thanked Faram that it was still open, made the gesture of crossing her chest, and excitedly bounded into the next area. One would be faced with an at least five foot wall the moment he entered, making him swerve to the right and rush down the stairs to really see the contents of the room. As Anya was about to swerve, Balthier grabbed her and clamped his hand over her mouth the same way Fran did earlier; Vaan, crouching against the terrace with the rest of them, put his forefinger to his lips and whispered a silent 'shh'. She arched her eyebrows up and down, desperately asking for an update on what was going on. This silly action, however, only proved to cause laughter to erupt from Vaan, which caused Balthier to clamp his other hand over the other teenager's mouth.

The children rolled their eyes, exhaled vehemently, and decided to simply listen to whatever was happening.

"Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen kingdom," remarked the Judge Magister. Who was he talking to? She had seen a sort of cage before she swerved-

"Better than throwing it away."

At this retort, Anya inhaled deeply and held her breath. Her heart felt heavy, and she thought it would burst out at any moment. That hoarse voice, low as a murmur... any dream with such a wonderful whisper would turn into a pleasant nightmare; nightmare, for any dream involving dead princesses and men were called such.

"Throwing it away?" the Judge Magister scoffed. "As you threw away our homeland?"

Our homeland? Our homeland? What could they have had to do with each other?

More metal could be heard clinking against each other, but with each second the noise grew softer. The four didn't need to see what was going on to know that the Imperials were leading them further into their escape route. Or out of, Vaan thought. He didn't care, all he needed to know was if _that man_ in the cage was really...was really that person. That traitor.

Once the Imperials were surely gone, Balthier led them down the stairs. There wasn't much to see. In the center of the room there was a deep hole, and hanging above it was a large birdcage. Inside it...well, Balthier chose not to see anything inside it.

Trembling, Anya stood before the birdcage, but chained inside it, tortured, was anything but a simple flight of fancy. It seemed very possible to her now. After all, 'Amalia' lived. The Marquis really could have been lying. But disappointment was such a painful thing, she knew, because it came to her in large, engulfing waves every morning after every pleasant nightmare she ever experienced. Perhaps she was still sleeping in the Strahl with Nono, their mechanic, tightly wrapped in her arms, and she was just about to be dropped off in Rabanastre.

But then he grunted, in the same troubled way he had grunted years ago, and looked back into her eyes.

And at that moment Anya finally awoke, her eyes and her smile containing anything but the wistful expression they had before. The game they had begun two years ago on Rabanastre's great Cathedral, they ended today. She had sought him. Now, she found him.

"I win."

* * *

_Sainikah_ - Bhujerban term for Soldier

_Parijanah_ - Bhujerban term for Guide

_Nanna_ - Large (their backs reach at least the chest of an adult Hume), green, birdlike (in that they have beaks, feathers, and claws) cattle that serve as the livestock of the Garif. They are famous for producing milk that is made into _Nanna_-cheese, which is famous throughout Ivalice.

Also, one of the 'beliefs' (the second one) of Anastacia's father in Anya's dream is taken from a quote by Anthony J. D'Angelo.

**Yiazmat: No problem about asking questions! I welcome those. Flames are just plain bashing, and you're doing anything but that. Anya acts like a child for a number of connected reasons. I hope you read this chapter before looking down here (XD), because it's crucial to understanding why she's such a baby. **

**When she was a child, Anastacia heard her father saying life was a game and that in times of...well, in really bad times, one must keep making games for himself to play so he might keep his sanity. Now, her father said that because he was still mourning for his late wife's death (the Queen of Nabradia and Anastacia and Rasler's mother), but Anastacia believed and held on to this because she trusted and admired her father so much. Growing up, no one told her otherwise, and so she tried to make a game up for every little thing she did (not everything was a game to her, but she tried to make it so that was the case). Rasler's favorite game was Hide and Seek (if you've read that oneshot of mine), but he never heard his father say anything about life as a game, so he never understood what Anastacia was doing when she was playing all those games (even by herself) and chose to ignore it. ****In fact, no one understood that quirk of hers (which they ignored, as she was a talented child art wise, whereas Rasler was the intelligent, military-trained one), but Basch tried to. The king was an exception because he never knew of Anastacia's games.**** So Rasler grew up normally whereas Anastacia played her little 'life games'.  
**

**This went on until the King of Nabradia died following the explosion of Nabudis, and got worse when Rasler died, too (which you can see in the oneshot Hide and Seek, but I'm assuming you read it). The news of tge King of Dalmasca's, Ashelia's, and Basch's deaths proved too much for Anastacia, and the Marquis's reaction to these events didn't help. He tried to think quickly; he tried to give her the throne of the newly united Dalmasca-Nabradia and give her a husband--one of the princes of Rozarria--with strong allies so they could gain his strong allies, but this would be forcing Anastacia to grow up, something Anastacia believed she just couldn't do in so short a time. (In the original Prologue, which I changed, the Marquis really told her she had to grow up.) So Anastacia clung to her childishness, to her games, and she ran away from learning to take on real responsibility (and it was a huge responsibility at that, ruling a kingdom and rallying troops to war no matter how bleak the situation was) and growing up.**

**Anastacia met Balthier during her escape, and as a fellow escapist he allowed her to join him and Fran as sky pirates on the condition that she would change her identity and act as if she'd never had a past as a princess, a condition that ruled over all of them in the group. Balthier had a particular liking for theater and would constantly call himself the leading man. When Anya joined the group and made their duo a trio, Balthier welcomed her to their little 'cast'. To _Anastacia_, it was just another game of pretend. (Although Anya had a distinct love for games, too.)  
**

**Yes, Balthier is only four years older than Anya. Had Rasler not died, they would've been the same age. But Balthier and Anya met under different circumstances. Balthier was a stranger to her and she never saw him as a child or acting like one, so she never saw him as someone she could joke around with like a big brother. No, Balthier was very strict with her in their first six months together (only softening up after Ba'Gamnan had trapped Anya and scarred her with the Bagangsaw, which was when, technically, she had become a real sky pirate because she was finally being hunted down; this happened exactly the way she dreamt it in the beginning of the chapter, except Ba'Gamnan really did reach her), and in those six months the obedient Anya came to see Fran as her new mother figure and Balthier, always strict and never fun, always acting like an adult, her father. **

**That and Anastacia just couldn't bear to give him Rasler's place as her beloved older brother, plus something goes on with Fran and Balthier every once in a while. Since the three of them loved to visit Bhujerba and since Balthier had found her in Bhujerba, she calls them mother and father in Bhujerban. She calls Balthier by his name most of the time now, however, because Ba'Gamnan told her (as you must've read in the beginning of this chapter) that if she called him father too much, he would abandon her. Anyway, after about a year or a year and a half of spending time together and ****since Balthier and Fran were no longer teaching her how to survive as a sky pirate (therefore no longer needing to be insanely strict)****, Anya grew on Balthier and Fran (though Fran had never been as strict with or critical of her as Balthier), and they began to reciprocate and follow the (what do I call it...? This'll sound very odd, but) sort of family system she set up and treat her like the child she acts like, which she just loved. She didn't have a problem with it and neither did they, since she was as obedient as a well-trained six year old. Lately, though, Balthier and Anya have been getting into a few fights because Anya has begun to get rebellious.**

**So don't worry. All I can say is that children...well, at first they develop into raging adolescents, rebellious and moody and confused with how they feel and are, but after that...**

** Everyone has to grow up some time, but not everyone has to grow up at the _same_ time.**

**Thanks so much for reviewing! Remember that I always welcome non-spoilerific questions, just like the ones you just asked! And sorry about the long explanation. I don't know how to keep things short, simple, and straight to the point. XD  
**

If anything needs explaining to you, PM me! Or put it in a review. No need to be scared, I'll answer anything as long as it isn't spoilerific. Spoilerificity (still a word...) depends with each question (and my answer), so you won't know if your question is spoilerific till you ask. :)

Ho ho ho, Constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated! I know, I know, you already know. :D Thanks very much again for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC

Hey everyone! Sorry for taking so long to post this old chapter. I just edited a few stuff and changed some of the wording. Otherwise, unlike the prologue, the gist of this one is quite the same. Still, please R&R!

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**Chapter 4**

Ten days. Seven weeks. Four months. One year. It was all just an estimate. By his fifth whipping he had already stopped counting the hours, the minutes, and the seconds. Or was that his sixth? Who knew? He was numb to the beatings given by their chain whips, rusted by the same blood that fell from his lips. To pass the time he had given to recounting to himself the less painful times in his life again and again, only to remember again and again that all the people he had shared those memories with were gone. Dead. With every ragged breath he drew, he relived the night he was told of their suicide– her suicide– by the messenger who dared to visit him every so often to remind him of it.

And here he was again.

Removing his helmet, the messenger strode towards his cage as arrogantly as he always did. There he stood; the man who had stolen his face. Ironic how even their eyes, though different in color, carried the same loathing for each other.

"You have grown very thin, Basch," declared the messenger. Yes, that was his name. Basch. He was told of how it could inspire hatred in even the most forgiving hearts of Ivalice.

Basch found that the messenger had come to him for another fruitless interrogation, after which an argument would surely ensue. As it did, he tried to think of how they might have bickered as children, although in a less serious and more lighthearted manner. But he could not remember, for thoughts of the man heartlessly murdering an innocent young soldier clouded his mind.

Moments later, Basch realized that the Imperials had gone, but light footsteps echoed in his ears. He knew well the sound of Archadian armor against the marble ground and was able to identify his new visitors' mostly foreign feet easily.

Eyes closed, he called out, "Who's there?"

He strained to open his eyes. Ahead of him and below his cage was an auburn-haired girl. He wrinkled his dry nose slowly. She smelled like...the river. With even the sharp smell of fish and the subtle hint of the banking leaves drawn across it. She stared up at him with her big, green eyes and whispered words that might have helped him recognize her, but he could not hear her; she was a stranger to him. What business could a young woman, not even past her teen years, have here?

"This the place?"

This voice drew him to see a hazel-haired man from the corner of his eye. Whoever he was, the man leaned over the hole below Basch's cage and peered into its dark depths.

"The mist is flowing through this room. It must be going somewhere." All these voices confused Basch. The new voice was a woman's; a Viera's, if his eyes still served him correctly. Behind her there was a teenage boy, but he could not see much detail to his face. It didn't really matter-- the apparent fact that these people did not work for _him _was all that did.

"You!" he desperately cried out to them, "You're no Imperials. Please, you must get me out-"

"It's against my policy to speak with the dead," the apparent leader of the party interrupted, refusing to look at him. "Especially when they happen to be kingslayers."

This comment greatly exacerbated Basch, who sighed inwardly and answered, "I did not kill him."

"Is that so?" the leader glanced at him, eyebrows raised, but he seemed decidedly unconvinced. It was a wonder that he was playing along at all. "Glad to hear it."

"Please," he turned to the younger members of the party. "Get me out. For the sake of Dalmasca."

He had successfully caught their attention, but the results of that were not so positive.

"How..." The girl looked about, perplexed, and searched for something to release him with in vain.

"Anya." the leader's stern voice caused her to turn to him with widened eyes. He shook his head disapprovingly.

She pouted. "But-"

"Dalmasca?!" Everyone stopped to stare at the youngest in the party, who had hurled himself onto Basch's cage and consequently rattled it in anger. The prisoner now had a closer view of him. His dark eyes and platinum blond hair did not ring any bells, but the way the skin under his eyes creased in an unusual way reminded Basch of...someone. Not that he had the right state of mind to think of who it was at that moment; all the boy's screaming and shaking unnerved him. "What do you care about Dalmasca?! Everything that's happened is because of you! Everyone that's died, every single one! Even my brother..." It seemed as if the boy was about to cry. "You killed my brother!"

Balthier muttered angrily to himself, suddenly regretting taking Vaan along for the escape. With all the noise he made at seeing this one dead man, he might as well have tied him up and asked Anya to drag him against the ground as they all sang and danced their way through their escape!

"Quiet! The guards will hear," he hissed at Vaan, who either deliberately ignored him or was really unable to hear anything in all his lunacy and continued to shake the cage with his hands and his feet.

Fran looked about warily as she held Anya by the shoulder to prevent the girl from jumping Vaan on the cage herself. She was tempted to shoot him down to return silence to the room once and for all, but that would only add to their problems and Anya was likely to hate her for it (though she currently seemed as if she wanted to kill the boy, too). Hearing hurried footsteps she knew no one else could, Fran turned to her partner.

"I'm dropping it!" she announced. She had been eyeing the lever beside Balthier for some time, wondering where it was connected, but now, suddenly, she knew its use. Ah, what increased acuteness in her senses did adrenaline gift her with. Running to the lever at full speed and subliminally warning her partner to duck, Fran struck it with her steel heel and swiftly jumped onto the cage as it began to descend.

On their way down, Balthier heard Fran clamp her hand over Vaan's loud mouth and clicked his tongue with much disappointment.

"Pirates without a sky," he remarked. Then, taking Anya up on his back, Balthier jumped onto the cage and prepared for their second crash in twelve hours.

_Ashes to ashes, we all fall down..._

Fran refrained from coughing as she stood and dusted herself off before pulling her two Humes to their feet. Save for her, they were all covered in flakes of gravel spread by the impact the cage had on the already filthy ground. Ashes indeed. The enormous bird cage lay beneath slabs of cloven rock, but its previous hostage was now far from danger.

Maybe not, she realized, as Vaan let out a loud battle cry and furiously tackled Basch, Dalmasca's allegedly greatest traitor, to the ground. It was plain to see that he was too weak to push the young Dalmascan off his presently thin frame. Fran nudged Balthier, who grabbed Vaan by the arm just as forcefully as the boy had attacked Basch and wrenched him away from the 'kingslayer'.

"Spare us your quiddities!" he scolded the adolescent. Anya watched with little concern as Vaan tried to reason with Balthier and realized that this was the difference between the two of them. He had never been taught filial piety or much gratitude, and she greatly envied him for it. But not when he lost arguments, of course, which had just happened.

Balthier turned around and stared down at Basch. "If you can walk, let's go."

Fran had helped Vaan stand more out of curiosity than pity; not that his raging adolescent nature was new to her. In fact, she thought that it was Anya (and Basch, maybe, but she knew nothing of the man) who could be singled out as lacking this normal trait, although she couldn't blame her. Vaan's outbursts must have been what Balthier was trying to avoid when disciplining Anya, who, though she argued with Balthier more often than not, was still unable to defy him completely as this street rat so boldly dared to.

"You're taking him with us?" Vaan asked, obviously bewildered. "But-"

Balthier did not reply, leaving Vaan to mope, and instead continued to speak to their new companion. "We could use another sword arm."

Fran could easily spot the restraint Anya forced on herself at the sight of Basch standing with a grunt; how her little Hume seemed to fancy it when he did so. This actually frightened her somewhat, but she supposed she couldn't do anything about it if she really liked such unusual sounds. And speaking of Humes and odd sounds, Basch had confirmed his ability to fight despite his physical conditions; it was amusing how Vaan could only snarl in frustration.

Balthier rolled his eyes to himself and grumbled something about teenagers before looking to Anya. "Did you manage to take any swords or weapons from the repository?"

"Oh! Yes," she nodded nervously and shuffled her pouch around for a weapon. Aha! Ouch. In searching for the weapon she remembered stealin-- er, retrieving, she had nipped herself on it. But in haste, she ignored the cut and carefully handed an Iron Sword to Basch. "Here, take it. Keep it."

"Thank you," Basch took it and granted her a small smile, which disappeared when he noticed the blood seeping from her finger. He was very sensitive to the stuff now, having seen and felt it ooze out of him many times since his capture. It was liquid iron with a crimson hue and tasted as such...like licking the rust from a corroded blade. "Are you all right?" he asked, trying to take his mind off the matter.

"Yes- yes, thank you for your concern," Anya answered, bowed her head, and rushed to Fran's side. The Viera pushed a smile back as she helped Anya wipe the blood off her wrist bandage (Balthier cringed at this) and proceeded to cast Cure on her finger to close the wound.

Lies were never good, no. But what if this particular lie was worth keeping? Fran didn't want any trouble...besides, she reasoned, keeping this from Balthier would most likely avoid any unwanted confrontations between him and Anya, and she preferred it that way.

"Quickly," she beckoned to the men. "The Mist..."

"Off we go," Balthier cut her short as he began to walk ahead of them. He didn't want to know how the Mist was doing this morning, or how close Fran was to going into a frenzy. Such things could only unsettle him, never prepare him.

He led them along the Barheim Passage, an abandoned tunnel with several corroded cart tracks that only seemed to lead escaping prisoners away from their path (which it did them for a while, until Fran notified Balthier that they were way off course). The five had stopped when they encountered a moderately large, cylindrical pillar that Balthier identified as one of the main power switches. It was timeworn, however, and for a minute it seemed as if they would be walking in the dark forever, but then a kindly Bangaa named Burrogh that Anya had the wonderful pleasure to make acquaintances with aided them. After Fran and he traded many of his and Anya's goods, they were able to move on, though not without Burrogh's reiterated warning about making sure to keep the lights on (lest they wished to be eaten by unspeakable fiends or the like).

And just as Anya thought of dismissing such a silly tale, the lights went off.

"Hey!" Vaan yelled. "Who turned out the lights? One of those?"

Only a few meters far from them, a sharp four-legged metallic bug crawled around very much like a spider, although it didn't seem to have noticed them-- on account of it gorging itself on the area's power cord! The sparks that flew from the cable as it was hurriedly fed on served as the only source of light in the room, thanks to the insectoid.

"I've heard of these: Mimics," Balthier said, loading his shotgun with a few bullets. "They disguise themselves as all manner of things, then strike when you're least wary. Some of them have a fondness for energy, I'm told. They gorge themselves on the stuff till there's naught left."

Anya and Vaan turned to each other almost fearfully. "What happens then?" asked the latter adolescent.

"Lights out," Balthier muttered. Near the Mimic, Vaan could make out the shape of a Hume...except it didn't have skin. Or muscle. Its clothes were torn to pieces, if it even had any, and _where _was that hair coming from? The holes of its ears?! Flies hungrily buzzed around it, and he could understand why. Not even the filthiest rat in the Garamsythe could admit to carrying the odor of a rotting corpse... And that was just what it was!

"And Burrogh was right. It's worse in the dark. Much worse. But don't worry, Vaan. The Mimic will give the energy back...if you ask nicely. Sticking with a sword helps too," Balthier continued, raising his shotgun. "Clock's ticking!" Without another breath, he shot at the zombie five times before it finally fell to the ground. He fired at the Mimic, too, but his bullets simply bounced off its metallic shell; it was Basch who cleaved his sword through its flashing jade bulb.

Vaan and Anya flinched as the Mimic's insides exploded all over Basch. Who knew those bugs had asparagus colored blood? Not any of them, but the new party member had the displeasure of learning that firsthand.

Taking a piece of cloth from Anya's bag and tossing it to Basch, Balthier told the two adolescents, "Don't be cringing at it now. The two of you are going to go through a multitude of stabbing those if we're to leave by lunch."

This comment resulted in an outburst of violent reactions, most especially from Anya, who only had a dagger to stab with. She wasn't as nitpicky as Balthier when it came to cleanliness, but who took pleasure in smearing guts all over their arm!? Not that they could do anything about it now, as Balthier decided that he and Fran would handle the undead from far away while the rest could bathe in insectoid innards.

Much more complaining from Vaan accompanied them as they marched along the passage, shooting zombies and bats out of the sky, which only brought out more complaints ("Did you _have _to shoot it when I was right under it? Thanks a lot for the shower, not that I needed it, considering I already had a lot of that from the zombies that exploded right next to me five seconds ago!"). Anya was about to lose her mind with Vaan's groaning and all the slime that seemed to crawl up and down her arm when they finally arrived at a certain junction of tunnels, which Burrogh had informed them of. Go straight, straight, straight from it, she remembered him saying.

"The Mist seethes," Fran warned the rest as they stopped to enjoy the fiendless area.

"It reeks," Balthier agreed. He had expected to sweat buckets here, but instead he was shivering in the cold wind. Wherever it came from, it blew the smell of rusting iron and year-old rotting sundries their way. "Something's close."

"Are you sure it isn't me?" Anya gave a tittering laugh, closing her eyes as she wiped steeling brain off her shoulders. "I seem to have gathered enough putrid entrails to be renamed a fiend. How does Anyiazmat sound?" She really did smell terrible, but Sir Basch surprisingly had it worse than she and Vaan did. Anya guessed it was due to his lack of reluctance in fighting the fiends here.

"No," Balthier sent her back an amused chuckle, "A better one would be-- behind you!" his eyes flew past Basch to another member of the living dead. What was it doing here? The lights were perfectly fine! Luckily, the ex-captain's reflexes were quick enough. He flung his arm around precisely and pierced the zombie right through the chest.

Balthier smirked at this great show of swordsmanship. "Nice moves there, captain."

Vaan frowned at the compliment's recipient. "You mean _traitor_."

"So they say," Balthier shrugged, aggravating Vaan even more. "But I didn't see him kill anyone."

"My brother did."

With this statement, Basch knew whose resemblance the boy bore. "Reks. He said he had a brother two years younger... I see: he meant you." Despite the bitter glare he received, the ex-captain continued. "Your brother. What became-"

"He's dead." Anya cringed at Vaan's curtness.

"I'm sorry," Basch bowed his head, as if this would temper Vaan's anger.

"It was you who killed him!"

Vaan's accusation rang in the ex-captain's ears and pierced his heart. "I give you my word: that was not the way of it."

Intently, Anya listened to the Captain's story. He spoke of how, arriving at the throne room, he had found King Raminas' dead body. How his twin brother, who had sided with Archadia and was the Judge the others saw earlier (this part confused Anya, as she was still not in the right state of mind to understand what they were talking about), took his place and was the one who dealt the fatal blow on Reks while he, the real Captain, was held back by the Imperials. It was a ploy devised by Vayne Solidor to frame him and take Dalmasca for the Empire, he said, and she believed every word of it.

"A twin brother, eh?" Balthier tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing at the ex-captain. "Fancy that...but still, the pieces fit, I'll give you that much. And that Judge did look like you."

"I don't believe you," was Vaan's two cents' worth. "My brother, he trusted you. He trusted you and he lost everything. How can I believe you?"

Basch apologized again and said something about believing in Reks, who was a great soldier or brother or some such. Balthier sighed in exasperation. He knew how to appreciate kindness, and the ex-captain certainly had a lot of it, but why did he think consciously reminding the boy of his brother would help? Didn't he know it was better to leave things to the past? Apologize, yes, but leave it be!

Fran sensed his unease and squeezed his shoulder lightly; he gratefully returned this alleviating gesture by placing his hand on hers, which brought a small giggle to escape Anya's lips. Balthier would have noticed it if Vaan's shouts weren't so mind-numbing.

"You don't know anything!"

Balthier removed his hand from Fran's and turned to the two Dalmascans. "Believe what you want to. Whatever it takes to make you happy," he barked at Vaan, and whoever did not notice how tired he was of all the arguing was either deaf, blind, or simply idiotic. Walking back to Fran, he muttered to Basch, "What's done is done."

Vaan was less than happy with what he understood as Balthier taking a traitor's side. Assuming the others' silence to be against him too, he sheathed his sword, stomped away from the rest and decided to do his moping ahead of them. This would have been fine with Balthier, had the boy not turned right from the junction instead of straight, as Burrogh had previously advised them.

"Grr," Balthier stopped walking and faced the direction Vaan left for. "Vaan! That isn't the right way. Stop this foolishness now; you want to get out of here, don't you?"

He received no reply.

"That's it, we're leaving. Unless someone wants to go after him." And by someone, he meant no one, because there was no way they were going to waste any more time taking detours.

"I'll go after him and be quick about it." Anya stepped forward. "He can't have gone very far, and I've known him the longest. Which isn't much to say, but no undead ought to be able to venture in there with us anyway, and even if they did..." she sniffed her wrist. Mmm, the sweet smell of decay. "I think they would mistake me as one of them."

"I will accomp-"

"No," Balthier shook his head the moment Basch opened his mouth. "I'll have to agree with Anya. She does smell awful, and if he sees you, he'll only try to run away even more." The real reason why he didn't want the ex-captain to join Anya was all too obvious to Fran, but this was a good enough excuse. Much more plausible, too.

The ex-captain opened his mouth to protest, but he knew there was truth in the leader's words. Still, he was not content; he had to do _something_. "All right. But would that not hinder you?" he motioned to Anya's large bag. She called it a pouch, but it was actually half her size and she lugged it around like a backpack. Basch had wanted to ask if she needed help with it before, but Vaan glared daggers at him and inched closer to Anya before he could.

"Thank you," was Anya's quiet answer as she heaved it to Basch without looking at him. He would have said she was welcome, but she had already turned away and dashed off, following Vaan's tracks on the tracks. "Walk a little ways ahead, we'll catch up soon!"

"You heard the girl," said Balthier, beckoning to the last of his companions. "Let's move."

As they went 'a little ways ahead', the adults of the party found that the Barheim passage was not all broken tracks and crashed carts. In fact, the tunnel was built upon mounds of Anthracite rock, although why they were surprised they weren't sure, since the crashed carts had been full of the blue coal. The green waters that surrounded its rough knolls reeked of pollution. Sure enough, bits and pieces of unused raw material and spoiled foodstuffs floated by the embankment.

Basch cleared his throat to ease the awkward silence that had passed them. "About Vaan," he started. Balthier turned to him attentively while Fran shot arrows at a few Surianders (large toads with equally large horns on their foreheads) that threatened to approach them. "Has he carried such anger since..." How long _had_ it been? "...since his brother died?"

"Only met the boy last night," Balthier replied, knowing he didn't need to shrug to emphasize his answer. "But isn't the way he's tried to kill you twice any indication?"

Basch nodded without a word.

"If you really must know, ask Anya. As she said, she's known him far longer than we have. Although I doubt she knew him before his brother's...untimely demise." Balthier's remark was certainly a head-turner for Fran. Not that he would admit it, but he only realized how big his mouth was himself when his words had already reached the ex-captain's ears.

"I see. And the girl, Anya... Is she of any relation to you?"

"Why so curious, captain?"

"Well, I-"

"Get out of the way!" Elbows locked together, their two topics of conversation restlessly waved their free arms at the adults. Neither of them bothered to hide their fear as they scampered the others.

"Less staring," Vaan said to them, jumpily looking back to where they came from numerous times. "More running! Come on!" Nodding to the other three in agreement with this, Anya yanked Vaan's hand and forced him to keep on moving.

"What's happened?" Balthier demanded, refusing to follow. "Why-"

A roar silenced the leading man and caused him to slowly spin around.

"A Bomb?" he bellowed, although he did begin to run with Basch and Fran. Following them and probably aiming to kill them as most fiends did was another flaming sphere. But unlike the Firemane, a sphere was this fiend's ultimate form-- not that it needed any more transformations. Its cuspidate, sometimes twisted teeth revealed its hollow interior, but its raging amber eyes were enough of a distraction from this. Already Balthier could feel the waves of heat it emanated draw beads of sweat from his brow. "You couldn't get rid of it before coming here?"

"We're sorry, but we refuse to handle anything fire-related for the next five months, thank you!" Anya replied, although now she felt awful for allowing the seemingly malnourished Sir Basch to carry her pouch.

"What? We?!" Vaan protested. "Whose idea was it to cast Fira as a threat anyway? Not mine!"

"Less talking, Vaan," Anya tugged at his arm violently again and accidentally tripped him. It took a hard shove from Basch to get Vaan up and moving once more. "More running!"

"Fira? Fira? At a bomb, Anya?! You may not use water spells, but that's what Motes are for!"

"All right, I'm sorry! I panicked. But we never had Motes, and even if we did, I didn't have my pouch back there!"

Balthier sighed. He had intended to give a dramatic one, but all the running they were doing hindered him. "Might you douse it as you did the Firemane in that...that lagoon?" he pointed to the murky green pools harbored by the rocks.

"Lagoon? I'd say it resembles a toilet bowl more than anything," Anya murmured. "Would you risk it? Perhaps we'll have lost it by the time we reach the surface. Look! Tracks again. I think we're about to reach the terminus!"

"Yet the fiend pursues," Fran spoke, motioning to the Bomb that continued to float after them. "What is your plan now?"

"I really hate to say it, but what other plan have we been following since last night?" Vaan interrupted. And for once, everyone knew he was right. "Run!"

They stepped onto solid ground once more and continued to follow the cart tracks that came with it. "At least," Basch huffed, "with this speed and lack of Mimics, we'll have reached the surface by...by lunch, as you have said."

"Not the best words of encouragement, but I suppose food is a good piece of motivation..." Balthier shrugged. It was understandable for the ex-captain to think of food, especially in that unruly state of his.

All of a sudden, just as they finally reached the end of the tunnel, Fran spread her arms out wide to halt the others. Before they could ask why, the four saw the cause of the Viera's alarm and willingly stopped. In this next and hopefully last area – a dome like structure that circumscribed four pillars – there were heaps of Mimics, still infants, stretching their metallic limbs for the very first time. They were a problem, but they were literally, literally not even the half of it. For from above the newborn mimics, a larger, presumably mother Mimic continuously lathered thick and syrupy green liquid from its multi-colored bulb upon its dear babes, strengthening them and sending them off to suck the life out of the energy cables in the dome.

It was when Vaan gasped in utter revulsion that the Queen, the mother of all the little power parasites, noticed her visitors. And by the sound of her shriek, she was not too happy with their intrusion.

"I suppose it is a good piece of motivation, food," Anya tittered again, squeezing Vaan's hand (and vice versa) fearfully and holding Fran's arm with her free one. "Unless _we_'re the food!"

"Since we're talking about food anyway, is it just me, or are we getting baked in here?" Vaan thought out loud.

"It isn't you." Basch answered as he turned around. What a dire predicament they had gotten themselves into: Mimics flanked them on the right while a Bomb sneered at them from the left. A few minutes more and they would have the undead by their side. Turning to the other man in the group, he asked, "What do you know of this Mimic queen?"

"Only that it has a certain aversion to the cold, like the rest of its kind."

"Wonderful," Anya groaned. "As it happens, we only have red fangs in the pouch. _Amba_, you're the only one here with Ice magicks."

Fran glanced from the Bomb to the steadily advancing Mimics and their mother. As usual, it was up to her to think of what they were to do next. "The red fangs may be all we need."

"Would using the red fangs not only increase the Bomb's rage? And while all the Mimics are..." Anya's eyes widened in realization. "Ah. I see. But we would need to be quick on our feet..."

"Quick feet?" Vaan muttered. "What do you-"

"Do you understand, captain?" Balthier asked Basch, readying his shotgun again.

Basch nodded, entering a fighting stance. "At your ready." He maintained eye contact with the Bomb, which took this as a challenge. With another roar, it darted at him.

"Now!" Fran ordered.

Vaan could only stare at his companions in confusion as they each did something of useful consequence. Basch scooped a handful of the green Mimic queen goo with his sword and hurled it at the Bomb's eyes before it could attack him. Anya positioned herself below the already furious Mother and chanted what Vaan recognized to be the Fira spell before she held her palms out to the Queen's bulb. Fran and Balthier shot at the tiny Mimics' bulbs, even resorting to kicking them out of the way once they were dead. What were they-? Didn't they know that the crazy Mimic queen would get even more ballistic with what they were doing and that the Bomb attacked anything that gave off intense heat the same way it did?!

...Oh.

_Oh._

Fran was good.

Just as Vaan thought, the Mimic Queen went beyond ballistic at the sight of her children being heavily maltreated. She would have attacked Fran and Balthier had Anya not set her most sensitive body part on fire. The Bomb, meanwhile, took a few moments to shake the goo away before it could regain its sight. By this time Basch had moved out of the way, and the first thing that appeared in its line of vision was the unfortunate Mimic Queen. The fumes her skin and the fire mixed together expelled attracted the Bomb like no other smoke would. With an eager grin on its face, the Bomb darted to her blazing bulb and sank its teeth into her.

Another shrill, deafening roar reverberated through the passage. As if this wasn't enough to cause the dome to collapse, the Mimic Queen thrashed about in pain and lashed her steel limbs at the pillars supporting it. She could think of nothing but the pain that seared her body, and all at the cost of protecting her children.

But no matter what her thoughts were, the five beings that caused her suffering did not know them, and they did not at all feel sympathy or regret for what they saw as simply another fiend. Such was the game of survival.

"Let's go!" Balthier shouted to his scattered companions. Grabbing Fran and Anya by the wrists, he saw Basch prodding a still amazed Vaan on to keep on running from the corner of his eye. Well, this was quite the epic escape. If only the rest of his were as easy...

**XIIXIIXII**

Fran resisted the urge to stretch her arms languidly. It had been a long trek along the Dalmascan Estersand back to Rabanastre, with little rest, and while she normally might not have felt the least bit tired, she did today, having attended to Anya a few nights before during their stay in Nalbina. This meant Fran hadn't slept since the morning before their arrest, as their so-called rest in the Estersand outpost was little but another commotion, much like their crowded arrest above the Waterway. She assumed the same went for Balthier, who went through the same thing, except he hadn't slept for four nights already; he alone flew the Strahl from Bhujerba all the way to Rabanastre to allow her slumber. Yet despite his lack of rest, she still found Balthier to be as appealing as she did when they first met. Now that she thought of what he had done for her, he seemed even more handsome than before. But she knew to keep this to herself.

Balthier's head ached. All the turmoil Basch's unusual appearance had caused in that small outpost along the Estersand and all the trouble they went to and the two nights' sleep they lost to silence it made his need for a drink (or rest, if that was at all possible these days) even more frustrating. Ugh. At least they were able to clean themselves up there.

They all stopped walking, finally, as they reached Rabanastre's Eastgate. At the same time, Basch turned around to face the rest. "I thank you," he said.

Balthier shrugged in reply. He was in no position to accept gratitude, he thought, as he initially brought the other man along for additional defense. "I'd avoid crowds, if I were you." Fran knew this was his own way of thanking the ex-captain for his aid. "In this town you're still a traitor, you know."

Basch sighed, looking to the tall Cathedral that rose high beyond the Eastgate of Rabanastre. "The Resistance will surely find me soon," he seemed to reassure himself before turning to Vaan with a nod. "Fates will we meet again. I would pay my respects to your brother." With that, he moved to disappear into the city.

Anya stared after the Captain as Balthier advised Vaan about something. She had to see him again. She had to see _them _again. But how? She didn't want to upset Balthier or worry Fran.

"Wait," Vaan called after them as they began to walk away. "What about the stone?"

"Do as you like," Balthier answered. "That stone's ill-favored."

"We feel regret." Fran explained, "We sought that stone and found ourselves only worry."

"Why?" Anya came back to her senses and glanced at Vaan. "Are you giving it to us?"

Vaan held the stone close and narrowed his eyes at her. "It's mine!"

Balthier thought so. "Then why do you ask? Our regards to your girl," he waved at Vaan without looking back and strode to the gates. Now to that drink.

"We stay in Rabanastre a while," Fran told him before following her partner. Anya was surprised. She was never this open to new people. Was this an invitation to see them again? Curious.

"Well, bye," she said to Vaan, patting him on the shoulder lightly. "Call me Adela around here, please, and take care of yourself."

She darted off to follow Fran and Balthier once Vaan gave her a reassuring nod. They entered the sliding Eastgate of Rabanastre, and Anya didn't think she had ever felt this happy to see the bustling city. Nothing had changed. The harsh rays of the sun still beat down on her, but she gladly welcomed the light it brought along with it. The noisy sounds of the city – the airships humming in the sky, the merchants yelling bargains out for customers in the Muthru Bazaar, the great Cathedral's bell chiming at the strike of twelve, the children splashing about the cold waters of the fountain here in the Southern plaza – welcomed her back like the lullaby of a mother to her ever straying child.

But not all was well, whether it was in the city or in Anya. Almost calculatingly, she reached out and held Balthier back by his sleeve.

He stopped by a store called Migelo's Sundries and looked back to her. "Anya?"

She removed her hand from his pure white sleeve, which had remained clean despite their earlier troubles. "I need...to stop by the Muthru Bazaar. A certain Hume owes me a bargain from our last meeting. Will I meet you by the Sandsea?"

Balthier said nothing and turned to Fran. "Do you think to go with her?"

"No," Fran replied, but only after taking a good long look at Anya. Keeping this lie would be troublesome if Anya would unknowingly go to great lengths to make it known, but revealing its existence before she did would make her a hypocrite. "I will bargain our spoils off later. Are you keeping it with you?"

Anya nodded, holding her pouch close. She would need it. "Thank you, _Amba_. I won't be long!" Waving a temporary goodbye to them, she headed off in the direction of the Bazaar.

"Keep yourself out of trouble!" Balthier shouted after her, but she had already gone. He sighed. _Now_ to that drink.

It wasn't too hard to seek and find Sir Basch around Rabanastre, no matter how large the city was. The people may have been used to seeing men with haggard appearances around the place, but children were always curious, which was why she mostly chose to familiarize herself with them than with the more heedless adults of the metropolis. She followed the surprised gasps and tall tales the little cubs gave her about a golden-bearded man who 'lurked' about the city.

She found him standing outside one of doors that held the stairs leading to the Lowtown. He seemed confused as to where that certain door would lead, as she correctly guessed that he knew the capital by heart, and the door was not there before the Archadian occupation.

"You might not want to go there."

Alarmed by the fact that someone had actually approached him, Basch swiftly spun around. He calmed down when he saw that it was only Anya, the girl who was with Vaan and the other two earlier. How peculiar that she could find him so easily, even after the twists and turns he went through just to make sure no one was able to follow him.

"Hello," he greeted her with a bow. She still carried that burdensome 'pouch' along with her? Where were her companions? "And may I ask why I wouldn't?"

"The stairs behind this door lead to Rabanastre's Lowtown. It's where the...well, poorer citizens of the city reside," she answered. "There are also some who were forced to live down there to make room for the more, let's say, capable civilians in the upper portion of the city."

"That's terrible," Basch frowned. "How Archadia has ravaged our country so..."

"Um, yes," Anya muttered, looking around uneasily. She felt guilty for not expressing her thoughts as strongly as Sir Basch did. "Listen... I don't know where your insurgence is, but I doubt they'll find you looking like that."

Basch looked down to the clothes he had taken from a dead body in Nalbina earlier and looked back to Anya in confusion. "What do you mean to say?"

"Come with me," she replied, clenching the strap of her pouch with her fists so tightly that they shook. "Allow me to fetch you better garments. Clean you up, feed you, so that they might at least recognize you. Please."

**XIIXIIXII**

How could he have refused such kindness? She acted as if he would be doing her a favor by letting her aid him, and so Basch did. They almost got into a fight when he told her he didn't want her to buy him new clothes (though she did force him to buy new undergarments). He allowed the girl, the sky pirate, to lead him to an Inn in the city, where she asked for a room despite its outrageously high prices. She had paid for all of it for him, and now she was preparing a bath for him. For _him._

Their rectangular room was on the 17th floor. It included two large beds with astonishingly comfortable mattresses (or perhaps it was just that he was no longer used to having one at all). One was in the upper right corner of the room by the window that had an outlook of the Southern plaza and its marvelous fountain while one was positioned at its center right, beside the bathroom, which could be accessed once one entered the room and turned right. To the left of the room, there were wooden chairs and a desk; above it, a lantern whose designs attempted to imitate the ancient carvings Castle Rabanastre's own lamps had. Odd how such a small thing, though it was an imitation, could give off such light and warmth.

"Are you well enough for a bath now?" Anya asked as she came out of the bathroom, wiping her wet hands off a towel on her shoulder. "I have finished heating the water. Unless you like it cold..."

"N-no," Basch sat up from his lying position on his stomach on the bed near the window. Anya had forced him to rest so she could clean his more recent wounds and cast Cure on his back several times; she even tried casting Curaga, but the spell proved to be too energy-consuming for her and she stopped. Removing the pieces of cloth she had placed on his back, he stood. "A warm bath is fine, thank you."

"Oh, that's good. I placed a towel for you inside, and I washed and Fira-dried your clothes, too, since you like them so much. You can eat after that bath. I asked for their most fulfilling and popular dishes, so I hope you'll like them," Anya murmured in one breath, staring idly at her footsteps in the carpet. She looked up to find the Captain giving her an indecipherable smile and suddenly felt very foolish.

"Do you fear me?"

"Pardon me?"

"Do I frighten you?" Basch rephrased, thinking it might help her understand how much he hoped she wasn't afraid of him. Still, he wondered about her purpose. "I don't want to seem as if I've...coerced you into aiding me."

"Oh! Never!" Anya shook her head furiously, but the nervous smile on her face sent Basch another message. "I assure you, I'm doing this of my own accord."

"And I assure you, I'm very grateful for your help." How would he ask? Would the question seem out of place? Would she force him out of the room as soon as he presented the inquiry? "So I pray you will not misinterpret my intentions when I ask...why? Why do you aid me?"

Anya seemed taken aback by the question, but she did not appear angry. "I- I suppose it is because of someone I knew well once. I loved her very much, and I feel...gratitude towards you for saving her life."

"Ah...? Someone you _knew_? Where is she now?"

"She died," Anya looked down sadly. "Not long after your supposed execution."

"I am sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said to him with a frown. "Defend yourself. Why do you accept all the slander uttered against you?" Basch stared at her with wide eyes. He would have expected these words from the Viera's partner earlier, not from this girl, their little companion, who seemed so timid.

"My point is," Anya continued, feeling very silly again for reprimanding Sir Basch when he had done nothing but good to her, "I mean well and I only wish to give you my help. Please believe me."

"I do," he nodded. "And I'm sorry, but I must ask for more of it. Tell me, what year is it?"

"Year 706 in Old Valendian," Anya replied, motioning for him to take a seat on his bed. If they were going to talk, she didn't want him to tire his legs standing. Or maybe it was that she was so happy to be speaking with him that she needed to sit down so as not to let her knees buckle. "It has been two years. Did you really not know?"

"I lost track of time in Nalbina," Basch muttered. "Two years since...ugh...are they true?"

"Are what true?"

"The announcements of the Marquis: that Princess Ashelia and Princess Anastacia committed suicide after the death of King Raminas."

Anya's eyebrows creased at the mention of the Marquis, and even more with the princesses. "How did those announcements reach your ears?"

"My brother told me. He came to me that night to personally inform me of how... how Princess Ashelia's body was found by a servant in Castle Rabanastre, poison on her lips, while the Marquis of Bhujerba had found Princess Anastacia's body in her room, a noose tightly snared around her neck. Is it true?"

Anya stared at Basch thoughtfully as she gripped the edges of her shirt. She had been taught to lie if a situation that she would need to with a straight face ever came. The Captain kept his blue eyes fixed on hers. Searching for the truth, maybe. Would he find it there? It was all up to her.

_It is meant to be forgotten! Or have you yourself forgotten what happened the last time __you tried to cling to it?_

Holding her breath then exhaling apologetically, Anya nodded firmly. "I don't think the announcement about the Dalmascan princess is accurate. They found a cup half-empty with poison, but no body was found. However, the rest is all true. Princess Ashelia sent Princess Anastacia to Bhujerba so that she might safely reside in the Marquis' estate before and during the treaty signing at Nalbina. Once she heard of your alleged assassination of her uncle and her sister's suicide, the Princess hung herself."

It was Basch's turn to pause and watch Anya in an almost suspicious way. Such a knowledgeable explanation of the tale of _her_ suicide. There was still a chance the girl was lying. After all, he did not know her green eyes well and could not tell. He had to make sure. There was still a chance that she was actually alive. Just as he was. "How did you acquire all that information?"

Anya stood from her seat on the bed and stared the ex-captain down, her green eyes projecting a mixture of Balthier's indignation and Fran's guardedness-- Basch was not aware of their names, but with one look he knew that they were the ones who bequeathed such feelings to her.

"Do you doubt me? I am a sky pirate now," she said to him, the resolve strong in her voice. She could not think of how much lying to him pained her. Not how it was her fault that she was in this situation; that she brought this all on herself by lying to her parents in the first place. Just how with this choice, her _Tatah_ would be proud of her, and her _Amba _would be safe from harm. At least she would not go. No one would leave and play Rasler's game yet. "In this business, we need many connections to get the information we want. How do you think I found you so easily? Howbeit, why do you persist? What did Princess Anastacia mean to you?"

Basch stood as well, but he avoided Anya's eyes and gingerly stepped out of her way before silently making his way to the bathroom.

Anya did not move. "Well?"

The ex-captain stopped in his tracks. Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly opened his mouth. No words came out.

"What did she mean to you?" the eighteen year-old girl repeated. Who was she to question him about such a personal matter? He did not know the answer himself, but for some reason, he was compelled to give a reply. Whether his answer would hold true to his own emotions, however, depended entirely on whether his voice would work this time.

Basch tried again. "She was a royal," he choked out. The mental image of a lifeless sixteen year-old princess replayed in his head. "The only princess of a closely allied kingdom. Should she have meant anything else?"

"How should I know?" Anya shrugged, and the ex-captain felt it though he could not see it. "I have never been a soldier before. I can tidy your hair after you bathe, and you will eat. Then you can do whatever you want."

"All right," Basch quickly complied, hoping not to cause any more conflict. He had not missed the way she so pithily said her last 'requests'; besides, he knew he caused her sudden terseness when he questioned her credibility. What he did not understand was why. Why she was helping him, why she knew so much, and why she seemed so upset with his answer. "I thank you again for your kindness."

She did not reply, nor did he expect her to as he locked the bathroom door. Purposely evading the girl and her newfound coldness towards him, he removed his lower vestments and stepped into the glass tub containing the warm water Anya had prepared for him. Despite the lengthiness of his conversation with her, the water remained as warm as he would have liked it to be. But he did not notice this, for he ignored all the details of the outside world. He would not feel the warm water slowly healing his scars. He would not smell the fragrant aroma of the Primrose Anya placed beside the bath for him. He would not hear her throw herself on her bed dejectedly and attempt to laugh her tears and troubles away, as sky pirates ought to do. All he could see was the young Nabradian princess walking towards the noose, her cheeks shimmering with salty teardrops that fell to the ground with each step. She slipped her head into the rope, tightened it...then jumped. No voluntary struggles; just a pathetic choke. Her dying breath was one of surrender.

Concentrating on sinking himself down until only his eyes and his forehead were above water level, he sighed.

So she really was dead, and it was all because of him. Because of his carelessness. The Cathedral wasn't enough. Lord Rasler was right. He should have made himself more known to her.

_Anastacia._

Exhausted, Basch closed his eyes.

_Forgive me..._

* * *

Characters in Final Fantasy need to CHILL OUT. Haha, kidding. Sort of. I want to see the new Advent Children already! Although I was never much of a fan of the FFVII compilation, I still want to see the new stuff they added (mostly Rude and Reno, because they are hilarious).

If anything needs explaining to you, PM me! No need to be scared, I'll answer anything as long as it isn't spoilerific. Spoilerificity (still a word...) depends with each question (and my answer), so you won't know if your question is spoilerific till you ask. :)

Heheheh, constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated as always! I know you know this is a copy-paste from the last chapter, and the chapter before that, and the chapter before that. Shh! It's OUR little secret. :D Thanks very much again for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

Hey everyone! I'm back! Sorry this update took forever. I took college review classes this entire summer and I only got back about two days ago. =_=

I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_His legs were asleep. Or maybe they weren't there. Damp, thin and scratchy strips of paper irritated his feet, making that impossible. Needles drummed incessantly on his temples. A cacophonous ringing stung his ears until a soothing melody palliated the vertiginous blare:_

_"He stirs. Kadalu, the Hume stirs."_

The Hume_? What would that make her? At least, it sounded like a her._

_"Hmm?" came a low, dragging tune from a new voice. "You are certain he's not just having nightmares again?"_

_His back ached. Oh, yes. The thieving, the flying, the crashing... So he was alive. Pity._

_Managing to lift his gummy eyelids, the Hume struggled to keep them open. Coal black and amethyst violet weighed heavy on his vision; he waited until it cleared and gazed upon the most magnificent burgundy eyes he would ever avow to have seen._

_"Ah! So the Hume is awake," said the same low drawl, the second voice he had heard. It belonged not to a Hume, but a Garif, made obvious by the fur on his arms and his horizontally elongated neck. Two birds seemed perched on the tall horns of each side of his mask, but the Hume knew by the tomes he had read that the mahogany things were just naturally a part of their design. The Garif supported him with his hoary palms and asked, once he must have thought the Hume had reached full equilibrium, "How are you feeling?"_

_The Hume reached the nape of his neck and pressed down in an attempt to relieve his ache. "As well as a Nanna after a thorough milking," he muttered truthfully, only meaning to sound a little complaintive. Looking ahead, he found the reason why. His lower torso was swathed in bandages; he had suffered a few gashes and bruises on his arms and his stomach, but other than that and a ferocious headache, he was fine. And apparently, the strips of paper weren't paper but leaves, seeing as he had been laid on a slightly elevated cot in a tent. Despite the tent's modest size, however, tall clumps of Amaryllis sprung from the ground in it in a sudden splash of amaranth and deep carmine, sided with tiny bowls of dark colors and unknown substance._

_"Ha ha ha! I like your sense of humor, boy!" the Garif let out a deep, hearty laugh, placing his hand on the Hume's left shoulder. "What is your name?"_

_"Ffam...Bal...thier," he answered, furrowing his eyebrows as he attempted to block the pastural stench carried by the Garif and their surroundings._

_"Fembaltheer?" the man reflected thoughtfully. "Odd name for a Hume, but-"_

_"My name is Balthier," the Hume repeated with much finality, and after some thought added, "Sir."_

_The Garif laughed again. "All right, Balthier. I am Kadalu, War-chief of Jahara. Good to meet you, yes, yes," the chief nodded to silence Balthier before he could begin with any formalities. "Could you perhaps be prevailed upon to meet your savior, who so compassionately pleaded for us to allow you healing and recovery in one of our huts, even after you crashed your airship on our lands?"_

_"I swear that I did not do that deliberately," Balthier replied uneasily. These Garif did despise their technology. "But yes, I would like to, if you allow it."_

_"I would not have asked if this were not the case. Splendid!" Kadalu clapped his hands merrily and tilted his head to nod at something beyond Balthier. "I leave this to you, Fran."_

_Balthier whipped his head around to his right in surprise. He was still a mite puzzled and had not yet recovered his sense of direction, and in effect forgot that someone was beside him. Why he did he could not understand why, when this someone was the possessor of the breathtaking dark crimson pools he had awoken to._

_A Viera was his savior. She had stayed in her place by the hut's entrance so silently that he did not sense her, or it could have been that Kadalu's unfamiliar presence was so overwhelming. But her presence was even more than that; more regal, more resplendent than any royal he had ever been forced to pay respects to. Magnolia white tresses fell loose on her glowing chocolate skin, and the way the sun shone on her silken lips just as she drew them up for a small smile..._

_Fran was the most beautiful creature in the world._

"Balthier, are you all right? Had too much to drink?"

Pulling him out of his musing, her voice brought him back from the grassy plains of Jahara in the Ozmone, past the sapped black sunstones of the Dry Giza and back to the chaotic city of Rabanastre, into its famous tavern, filled to the brim, the Sandsea. It reeked of ale and men drinking their problems away, just the way he liked it. They sat atop the small balcony overlooking the bar and the rest of its usual patrons so as not to catch any-- malignant or not-- attentions.

"No," he answered, taking another graceful swig of his order. "I've yet to drown the events of the past fortnight away."

"Was it so terrible that you would forget Anya as well?"

Balthier held his glass to eye level and swirled his brandy around hesitantly. "I said two weeks, not two years."

"You are too strict on her," Fran continued, staring straight at him. She had to let this out now before she lost the courage. "She thinks that you grow tired of her; her fear of our abandonment in Rabanastre was not a jest."

"You're sure?" Balthier set his glass down and tapped his fingers on the table in a fast, anxious rhythm. "I don't think I've done anything to give off such an air. But if it makes you happy, I'll watch myself."

"I'm glad," Fran smiled. The finger-tapping ceased, and Balthier relaxed his shoulders. It had been a long time since he had painted such a divine work of art on his own.

"And so am I. For that, I'll let you-- or Anya, if you wish-- choose our next destination."

"I think Anya should choose; she is much more picky when it comes to new places." Her laughter was a composition worthy of praise in itself and her heart was giving to those who had a piece of it to a fault. He knew he had made the gravest mistake in choosing her to be his partner, yet he couldn't release her. Balthier acknowledged that he was selfish, too, and so took comfort in the knowledge that she would not have been held back in Jahara anyway. He preferred the lesser evil of having her by his side in danger than by anyone else's.

"Agreed," he laughed, then sat up properly and looked around. All the wine was making him nauseatingly romantic. He had to pull himself together. "Where _is_ that little sky pirate now?"

"Gallivanting off with her little friends in the city, no doubt," answered Fran, convincing herself that there was some truth in that statement. Vaan and that prisoner were shorter than her. Seeing Balthier's gaping mouth and wide eyes, she followed, "But not in the way you are so famous for, dear Sky Pirate."

"I never knew you to be such a flatterer, Fran, but it shan't work," Balthier grinned, wagging his finger at her playfully. "Why you think of me so highly I will never know myself, but I tell you now that none of those silly rumors are true. I am but a simple man with quite simple needs, rea-"

"What you need to do is go to the Bhujerba Mines!"

Balthier turned an irate brow to the distinctively short yet large (by width) cobalt Bangaa adorned in ostentatious rags – obviously an attempt to differentiate himself from his more savage brothers, but perhaps Balthier only thought that way because of his innate hatred for Ba'Gamnan – that had dared to intrude their moment.

"And who might you be?"

The Bangaa introduced himself as Migelo before he entered into a tirade against wayward sky pirates and traitorous, kidnapping bounty hunters. He barely allowed anyone-- even the Sandsea's startled employees, who only asked him to keep his voice down-- to get a word in until Fran scraped a nail against the balcony railing, emitting a high-pitched screeching noise that caused everyone to cover their ears painfully before settling back into silence.

Balthier's elbow slumped against the table as he lazily leaned his right temple on his fist. He could only hope Anya listened to him and kept herself out of any sort of thing that might lead them into trouble...

**XIIXIIXII**

Anya glared at the bathroom door impatiently. A third of an hour had passed since he entered that door. Nobody needed that much time to take a simple bath, and the cold air from the vents in the ceiling had begun to make itself at home on his food. Sliding off the inn's satin sheets, Anya marched grudgingly over to the bathroom and banged her fist against its door.

"Sir Basch! Your food is getting cold, and using magickal fire on food is never healthy. Come out!"

No answer.

"Open the door! Hello?"

A dreadful thought crept its way into Anya's mind as she bruised her finger joints on the irritably durable wood. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she pulled out two pairs of keys hung on intertwined brown and orange strings.

"Sir Basch!" cried Anya, jamming the bathroom key into the doorknob and kicking it open. "Are you still...alive?"

He lay sunken in the tub's shallow water, part of his hair, his forehead, and his closed eyes being the only parts of him still dry. Anya knocked the Primrose-filled vase over in a rush to reach him and plunged her arms into the water. The pleasant scent of bubbling soap and the soothing warmth of another slithered past her senses temptingly, but she pushed those thoughts aside. His fingers were callous with wrinkles. Leaning closer, she wrapped her arms around his lower back and heaved him up so his head tilted backward limply and his arms hung over the tub's edge. Holding his head up and brushing his hair aside to clear his face, she slapped him lightly.

"Sir Basch, wake up!" As if yelling to an unconscious man would help. "I'm not very good at pounding the water out of people's chests, but I'll try... Here-"

Basch jerked a bit and coughed. Anya thought it almost sounded nervous. "I'm sorry...for my impertinence earlier..." he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"Yes, yes, you're forgiven! Just get up, live, don't die! Don't kill yourself!"

"All right," Basch cleared his throat a last time before he blinked his eyes wide open and sat up. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's fine," Anya sighed, clearly relieved, and thanked Faram before realizing the situation they were in. The situation they had been in, although Sir Basch was unconscious. In an instant, her cheeks flushed and she stood from her kneeling position. "Your food has gotten cold, and I've to tidy you up still. Please finish this up quickly."

Basch stared at where she once stood after she closed the door. That was a conflict not too easy to solve, but at least he knew more about this young sky pirate now.

**XIIXIIXII**

"So," Anya began, stepping out of the Inn and slinging her pouch's handle over her shoulder. The Dalmascan sun breathed down on her lightly tanned skin in unavoidable, harsh huffs, and no amount of fanning herself with her hand wearily would help. At this rate, she would smell the Rabanastran odors mixing with hers in only a few minutes. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Where do you plan to find your Insurgence, Sir Basch?"

Basch wondered why she insisted on calling him sir and at the same time cringed at the word 'insurgence'. It was such an ugly word. Why she claimed to be on his side and yet would use the words of his brother confused him, but if he knew better he would try to assume that this only proved her detachment of herself from any country. That was what sky pirates did, after all. Now he pondered if he was only pondering about these things to avoid admitting that he had no idea where to start.

Allowing a few moments of silence pass, Anya spoke. "I thought so. I'd say we start in Rabanastre's Lowtown."

Basch turned to glance at her in confusion when he realized that she had already begun to walk. Running to catch up with her, he reminded Anya, "You told me I didn't want to go there and that you didn't know where the Resistance was."

"Not looking like you did before, you didn't," she laughed, giving Basch a once over. Anya thought she had given him a decent haircut, but when he asked how she knew how he looked before, the sky pirate replied that she didn't, it was just a prerequisite for all sky pirates to style hair well. Hilarious how he believed her. "And to be honest with you, I still don't know. But do you really think they'd be stupid enough to hold their meetings up here, where the Imperials make daily rounds in every shop in every building? The Lowtown is full of angry people, either shunned or antagonized by the Empire. The Imperials are so disgusted by the place that they don't dare venture in its dark, vermin-infested passageways. Why shouldn't your Insurgence base itself in Lowtown?"

Basch had nothing to refute that statement with, and neither did he want to. What the sky pirate did say was plausible, and it was his only lead at the moment.

Anya's way of maneuvering about the city was confusing at best. She twisted around the streets and sometimes walked around shops in circles, and the most peculiar thing Basch noticed was that at the mention – whether it was a shout down to a whisper – of 'Adela', whatever or whoever that was, she'd pivot and run in the opposite direction. Basch had a hard enough time hiding his face from the crowd, much less keep up with a sky pirate's dizzying antics. All he remembered was being shoved out of the way by an exhaustedly hunched, lumbering blue Bangaa in lavish clothing – and quickly apologized to by the same person – as they passed by an armory to reach another door leading to the Lowtown.

The Lowtown wasn't as dark or as vermin-infested as Anya had so grimly narrated, although he saw that some destitute Dalmascans really did sleep on the ground, causing Basch to feel guilty about even seeing a comfortable bed. Can't do anything for them but buy their wares, Anya told him, talking him out of another solemn soliloquy by buying him a few useless accessories peddled by his penniless countrymen. Their narrow stalls rose and fell along the tunnels, depending on the number of Dalmascans that used each path as their resting grounds and the amount of barrels and crates lining the ways. A cold breeze glided around the passages, whispering Dalmasca's grievances to anyone who would listen; Anya brushed Basch off when he made the comparison and told him it was the wind from the Garamsythe. She was about to bring him down to a lowered circular platform by way of one of four ramps that bowed down to it when a foreign hand found itself on her bare shoulder.

Defensively slapping the hand away, the girl turned around. The guarded glower on her face was replaced by a small grin. "Balzac! How did you get here? Were you fired from your _Parijanah_ post at last?"

Balzac, whoever he was to Anya, did not return her cordiality. "Follow me," he said to her, his eyes briefly flickering to Basch. What surprised the former captain was that the man seemed to recognize him and expect to see him there. Could this man be from where he thought he was from? "Adela, little lummox of the city bound skyferries. Or should I say Anya, great pirate of the skies?"

"What's in a name, _bhadra_?" Anya replied calmly, although her nearly bulging eyes betrayed her shock as they followed Balzac back away the platform and the stairs they'd descended from. "That which we call a churl by any other word would have smelled as filthy."

"Spare me, sky pirate. You would not, were you not called Adela, have withheld your connections," Balzac spat, stopping by a large hill of crates. He began to climb the pile and threw the boxes from the top down one by one. Basch moved to help, but Anya held her arm up to halt him.

"You give me too much credit-- I would not, even now. But since I am indebted to you for a deed, I'll supply one correspondent." answered the sky pirate. "You, Balzac. You told me about the new Consul's arrival here in Rabanastre first. I would not have been able to collect so much information in Bhujerba had you not been a-"

"Anya," Balzac interrupted, acknowledging her trickery and shooting her a look as he pointed to the door he had uncovered. She was such a little _Fury_. "You'll say nothing about what you see or hear in there, do you understand? And don't try to get out again using this door. I'll be locking it."

Anya grumbled in reply. "Not even a _svagatam_, traveller... Stereotypes do change people. Let's go, Sir Basch."

At the free mention of his name, Basch knew his earlier prediction was fulfilled. The resistance had found him. Now all he needed to do was convince them that he wasn't the kingslayer Ondore had so famously proclaimed him to be. His days in Nalbina were over, that much was certain. Reaching this new goal couldn't be too hard, could it?

The Insurgence's base in Rabanastre was thrice the size of Anya's little hideaway in the Muthru Bazaar. Nearly obsolete lamps and moth-eaten seats and tables around the hideout spoke of their low budget, but the rustless platinum blades and spotless protective armor the insurgents carried and wore explained why. Tapestries of the royal families belonging to the sister kingdoms in between Archadia and Rozarria on each side of the base boasted of the insurgents' loyalty. The royal majesties of Dalmasca and their daughter – Ashelia – to the right, and the royal majesties of Nabradia to the left, with their children, Rasler and Anastacia. Anya inadvertently pushed past a group of insurgents who had suddenly gone silent and stared up at the musty threads that hung on the western wall. Blowing the dirt off it and beating its frayed fabric, Anya looked up in awe. Now there was a woman she had never seen in many, many years.

"Now there is the Basch that I remember," said a familiar voice. Anya granted herself three seconds more before paying attention to the scene playing out before her. Across Sir Basch with his arms crossed, Captain Vossler of the old Dalmascan Army smirked. Anastacia had known him to be Sir Basch's good friend or comrade, but he never had a place in her heart; he didn't accompany her brother to Nalbina, after all, and she had disregarded the fact that Dalmasca needed its own Captains too, having been sixteen in appearance but perhaps twelve at heart. All these were just silly speculations by Anya, of course, guesses made as she stared into the dead princess' amber eyes.

Sir Basch said something that must have been very controversial to Captain Vossler, as the room erupted with unwanted opinions and arguments. The air was hot with tension now. _Tatah_ was right, Anya thought, chuckling to herself when she realized that Prince Rasler's chin had been completely disfigured on the large piece of cloth. Insurgents became insurgents with good will in their hearts, first, but once they began to crave for the blood of their enemies, they would go to any lengths to quench this thirst. Maybe even fight their own, the same way they tossed Sir Basch's and Reks' names around like dirt.

"My brother was no liar!" a small, nasal voice quieted the base. Anya knew exactly who just entered the room, and although she wondered why, she said nothing. Entering the insurgents' base was exactly the opposite of what Balthier had instructed her to do, keep out of trouble, so letting them proceed with their ignorant disputes was all she could do now to keep from slighting the order even further.

"...Reks was the witness they needed," said Basch, always the sacrificial Nanna. "They had to make it appear as if I'd killed the King—Reks bears no blame. The Fates have willed it." Anya stuck her tongue out at the mention of the 'Fates'. Depending on the fates or believing in them at all was what caused most people to lose the games they unknowingly played, and Sir Basch's obvious belief in them was what would allow Captain Vossler to stump him in this argument.

"So this is Reks' brother." Vossler rudely snatched the sword Vaan had been carrying and looked at the boy with a demeaning eye, the same one he had given to the orphan's brother two years before. "Your words may convince a child such as this, but they weigh far too lightly on the scales for my taste. And you! A pirate who holds loyalties to no country. Whose words would you stand for?"

Anya glanced at Captain Vossler from the corner of her eye, wishing he had not addressed her in particular, but it was too late for wishes. The whole room seemed to shrink itself and lean in just to hear her answer. Slowly, she spun around, meeting one by one the eyes of all who hated the Empire. They stood for different things, different people, but in goal and in dream she was the odd one out. The insurgents looked upon her with shame and disgust. Sky piracy for them was not a respectable trade in any aspect, and the dagger on her waist only clued them in on her side job. Vaan and Basch were conflicted, unsure if they would judge this girl – what was she? A friend? An acquaintance? A foe? – once she gave her opinion. Finally, her eyes landed on Captain Vossler's. He watched her expectantly, tauntingly, or it could have been her nerves egging her on. Either way, she would have to speak.

The saliva from the sides of her mouth seemed to keep falling to the space under her tongue, like an endless waterfall to the rapids of an angry river. A disgusting analogy, she thought, but it was probably the most accurate. Gulping the last of her nerves down her throat, Anya opened her mouth. "...You openly insult my profession, Vossler, yet expect me to answer your question as if I were a cadet under your charge. This is not the Dalmascan Army. There is no Dalmascan Army! In fact, this little Insurgence of yours-"

"Resistance!" one of the insurgents insisted.

"This little Insurgence of yours," she continued, "is little more than a dull thorn on the Empire's side!"

Not unnerved in the least, Vossler cocked his head at her. "Will you give us your answer, pirate, or will you continue to bore us with your mindless prattle?" At this, everyone in the room, save for Sir Basch and Vaan, burst into laughter. Anya felt the heat of the moment slip away as the cold sweat of humiliation crawled up her back.

"I-I'm getting to it," she glared. "When you free your beloved Dalmasca, what then? You shan't be recognized by the Empires till you have a monarch, and this monarch will need at least one ancient gift of the Dynast-King to validate his claim to the throne. I can tell almost none of you in this room know what that even is. Your short-sightedness will be your downfall, as was your comrades' last night. But what is a lowly pirate's word to the self-righteous Insurgence? It will not matter to you whose statement I regard, will it? You'll twist my answer and use it to condemn this man-" she pointed to Sir Basch, "-this man who was once your most trusted comrade. Is this filthy, greedy sky pirate correct?"

Vossler snorted, refusing to answer her, and turned instead to Basch. "You may have chosen a pretentious ally who can pass herself off as cunning and who knows more than she _ever_ should, but we will see who is short-sighted. Our paths will remain separate."

Basch was adamant. Anya's response unnerved him, but it only furthered his doubt and his interest in the sky pirate and her two allies-- her parents. "Do you not think Amalia worth saving?"

The look on his old friend's face softened as he sighed, and Basch knew Vossler had not changed, no matter how antipathetic he tried to sound. "I hold men's lives in my hands. I must see foes in every shadow. The night we moved against Vayne, he knew. I will not chance such disadvantage again. I must treat you as I would Ondore-- as I would treat any abettor of the Empire."

"Then what will you do?" Basch asked incredulously. He understood Vossler's stand, but could not help but feel contempt for his decision. Had they not served Dalmasca together even before the beginning of negotiations of marriage between Dalmasca and Nabradia? Before they had each truly become men? "Hold me here in chains?"

The two former captains eyed each other warily; the similar dark circles under their eyes reminded everyone of these previous titles, but no one dared speak. Once a Dalmascan, always a Dalmascan, Vossler had once said, and though he had tried to disremember this many times, he could not. Especially not now, when the man he had the choice to condemn eternally was almost like a brother once. Losing his resolve as a resistance leader for a split second, he tossed the sword he had taken from Reks' brother to Basch.

"Some things never change, do they?"

Vossler frowned. He had granted Basch this one nostalgic act of camaraderie, but he would not yield another. "Listen to me, Basch. Your cage may have no bars, but it is a cage. The eyes of the resistance watch unblinking."

"What will you do?" asked Anya, although she knew the words were not her own. "Run to your Marquis and ask for his help in finding us? He could not even find his own niece before she committed-"

"Let them watch," Basch replied to Vossler, squeezing Anya's shoulder to silence her. Surprisingly, she assented. Her retort was meant to insult Vossler, but it had affected him as well. "I know something of cages." With an almost disappointed glance to his old friend, he marched away, pulling Anya by the wrist along with him towards the other exit Balzac had spoken of. Embarrassed by Sir Basch's sudden hold on her, Anya tugged at Vaan's vest and dragged him along with them. She had not expected him to follow, but he did, only looking back to see the half-suspicious, half-regretful look on Vossler's face.

"Oh yeah, Amalia's in the resistance," reflected Vaan as he slammed the door to the base closed. "Wonder where they took her."

"Who knows? Insurgence leaders get special treatment. I can only hope she's still alive," said Anya, and she was not lying.

"Then you know her..." Basch glanced back at them. 'How...?' asked the look on his face.

"Sort of," Vaan shrugged, looking to Anya for affirmation. "We met her just before we got sent to Nalbina. I've met nicer people. I guess all Resistance people are skinflints like that."

"Skinflints when it comes to their trust and tact, maybe," Anya muttered, stopping in front of the circular platform Balzac had found them by a few minutes before. "This is where we part ways. I have to meet with Balthier and _Amba_, who are probably angry with me by now..."

"Balthier? Is that your father's name?"

Anya and Vaan gave each other funny glances before turning back to Basch. "My father? What do you mean? The Viera I travel with is Fran, and the other Hume is Balthier. They are not my...birth parents."

"I see. I'm sorry, I had just assumed, since you called-- Fran, was it? -- by the Bhujerban term for mother."

Vaan's lips formed an 'o'. "Oh, is that what it means?" How could they have been her parents? Anya had Hume ears!

"Yes, Vaan, it is." Anya replied dismissively. "And yes, Sir Basch, I do call her mother. She plays her part very well, and I owe her my life for it."

"What do you mean?" Vaan's eyebrows creased towards each other in confusion. "Did Balthier and Fran adopt you? When did they adopt you? And where did you come from before, then? Is that where you learned all those things you shouldn't know? Or where you learned to talk funny?"

Vaan was such a child; so alike to her that it bothered Anya a little. "I don't talk funny!" She first chose to reply in defense. "Maybe you talk funny and...ehh, never mind. I guess they did adopt me, though not officially. As for the rest of your questions, never ask them of a sky pirate unless you want yourself stripped, skinned, and guillotined. They're all mostly personal questions, and no sky pirate wants to get personal." Looking up, she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Five minutes. Balthier'll guillotine _me_ at this rate. I have to go. We'll meet again soon, I promise. Good luck with all your endeavors!"

Vaan frowned. He didn't like being threatened, but he guessed Anya was only looking out for his well-being. Or her own well-being. Who knew? Not him. He still had to find Penelo. Last he saw her, she was being given Balthier's handkerchief...hey. Maybe she skipped out on work to look for Balthier!

He didn't know why, but Vaan didn't like that thought too much.

Still, he had to give it a chance. And since Anya was meeting up with that guy anyway...

"Hey!" he shouted, chasing after the girl he had been with just a few seconds ago. Where did she run off to now? "Any--Adela! Wait for me!"

The former captain kept his head down as Vaan screamed out for Adela-- er, Anya. He had already hoarded enough odd stares for himself with the scar above his left brow alone; this helped his situation little...but perhaps he could make it work to his advantage. Balthier was Anya's foster father (he thought), Anya was Vaan's friend (he thought), Vaan was clearly in his reach (he thought), and he, Basch, needed an airship to Bhujerba (this he knew). Tilting his head up and sighing, Basch started towards the fumbling figure that was Vaan.

Yes, he could make with these connections yet...

**XIIXIIXII**

Basch fon Ronsenburg, always the optimist.

He had been like this even before they were promoted captains in the Army. Never relenting with his beliefs; always pushing further and farther. We can still make it, he would always say. And all that hopeful talk of fates! He'd been like this with the King, with that Reks boy...and with that princess.

Idiot.

When would he realize the true gravity of the situation? Maybe he did and this was simply his way of dealing with things. It had been his way for sixteen years. But really, a street rat and a sky pirate?

If that Vaan was anything like his brother, which he was certainly not as stated by the news his men had delivered, he would back down. Judging by his recent escape of Nalbina and his seemingly innate hardiness-- a trait his brother did not possess, unfortunately-- he knew he would be seeing the boy again very soon. This did not sit well with him. They didn't need another child encumbering their efforts.

And that overbearing little sky pirate! Her aggravating acumen in matters of the Resistance was reminiscent of someone, but he could not place his finger on whom it could be. Balzac had admitted to having met her in Bhujerba, although she was under the alias of Adela; he personally discovered her true identity on the night of the fete when he saw her unconscious, dragged along by Imperials with the two other known sky pirates they had arrested, Her Majesty, and Vaan, who had called out to her with the name, 'Anya.' How could she have known so much? With that much information she was subject to enmity from both the Resistance and the Empire, unless she had only divulged her knowledge to him. Even with that advantage, she was a danger to all of them and needed to be silenced.

But he would give her the benefit of the doubt, and that Vaan, too. They would be safe so long as they kept to their own affairs.

"Captain Azelas!" one of the Resistance couriers called to him with a salute. "Your airship is ready."

Without turning his head away from the Nabradian tapestry, Captain Azelas nodded. She had shown considerable interest in this one. "Have the course set over Dorstonis. We'll set off once the base has been cleared."

The courier walked to the door, then stopped. "Where, sir?"

Vossler closed his eyes. Patience... "The sky city of Bhujerba, where else?"

**XIIXIIXII**

"This pouch? It's manufactured Nanna skin, which is light and durable." Anya informed Vaan and Basch. Mostly Vaan, who'd been the one to ask what it was made of. The two had caught up to her on her way up from Lowtown and asked to come along, to which she gladly agreed. Following her to the Sandsea to meet with Balthier and Fran, Vaan spoke of his past and released the underlying grief that came along with the death of his older brother. How lucky he was, too, to have patched things up with Sir Basch, after which he assured Anya that there would no longer be random tackling or attacking.

"I thought the Garif scorned all manufactured things?" Basch paused and noticed a sign to his right. Migelo's Sundries, it said. He would have to know all these places again if he was going to get around Rabanastre without bothering anyone. "How did you persuade them to create that pouch out of their precious Nanna?"

"What's a Garif?" asked Vaan, squeezing himself in between Anya and Basch.

"Oh, uh, lots of them, their race, live around the Bancour Region. They mostly prefer to keep to themselves, but they're hospitable if you're nice enough. You'll have to see them for yourself if you want to fully understand what I'm saying...anyway, it wasn't I who persuaded them, not that persuasion was needed at all. The Nanna skin was a gift to _Amba_. Once one receives a gift from the Garif, he can do whatever he wishes with it, so there was no problem. Nono, our airship mechanic among other things, took it upon himself to craft the skin into a pack for us."

Sack is the right word, thought Vaan and Basch, but said nothing on account of their arrival at the Sandsea tavern. Anya sped straight up the stairs, only stopping at the sight of Migelo, the Rabanastre orphans' guardian, arguing with Balthier. He muttered something about a misunderstanding while Migelo accused him of being the reason why Penelo was taken.

Penelo was allegedly Vaan's best friend, although Anya had never been introduced the girl, as Adela or otherwise; one of the few times she'd seen the blonde was as she ran after the other during the parade for Vayne Solidor the afternoon before. Anya liked to think Penelo was Vaan's girlfriend, but the girl was too pretty and seemed even sweet. So why she wasted most of her time trying to keep up with so difficult a boy as Vaan, she would never know. This wasn't to say that she didn't like Vaan. It was just that he was a bit troublesome. Scratch that, very troublesome. And stubborn-- which was what Balthier had called her just a week before, and with this realization Anya decided to keep quiet.

"What?" Basch kept his place behind Anya, but Vaan naturally stepped past her and looked to Migelo with a frown. "Migelo? What about Penelo?"

"Oh, Vaan!" Migelo turned to his charge, distressed. Ignoring the vagabond he recognized to be Adela and another Hume he did not care for, he continued. "They've taken Penelo! And there was a note-" the Bangaa pointed accusingly at the sky pirate beside him. "A note for this Balthier! Come to the Bhujerba mines, it said..."

"It's Ba'Gamnan," deduced Fran, who spoke little since Migelo had arrived. "He was in Nalbina."

"And he must have meant the Lhusu Mines in the sky city," Anya added.

This helped Migelo's nerves none. His mind rapidly flipped through pictures of Penelo in pain-- or worse-- like those wasteful slide-shows on little pieces of paper the young ones liked to draw these days, but more gruesome and terrifying. "If anything were to happen to that sweet child-- why, I've her parents' memory to consider!" he squinted sternly at Balthier. "You're going to go to her aid, and that's that! Why, it's what you Sky Pirates do, isn't it?"

"I don't respond well to orders," Balthier scowled defiantly. "You do know the Imperial fleet is massing at Bhujerba?" Migelo fell silent at this information. No amount of begging would convince these rapacious sky pirates to land their airship in a port infested with Archadian soldiers, especially with the bounty on the man's head.

Luckily, Vaan did not know the meaning of 'the imperial fleet massing at Bhujerba' and stamped his foot. "Fine, then I'll go!" the boy declared, drawing skeptical glances from the five surrounding the table. Shaking his head and embarrassment away, he turned to Balthier. "You at least have an airship, don't you? Just get me there, and I'll find Penelo myself."

"I'll join you. I have some business there as well," said Basch, making known to the others his presence, although it was only Balthier who had not seen him yet.

As the sky pirate noticed him approaching them from behind Anya, he knew she had not followed his instructions. Then again, he himself didn't either. "An audience with the Marquis, by chance?" he asked pointedly. The former captain confirmed it by his following silence, and with this Balthier decided that they would not go to Bhujerba...until Vaan offered the Goddess' Magicite in exchange for a lift to the sky city.

He turned to Fran. "The Gods are toying with us," was all the advice she wanted to give at the moment before her gaze shadowed Anya. Balthier sighed in resignation. He knew where this was going-- where they would be going. Hopefully, she would prove him wrong.

Glancing at Anya, he told her, "We leave it to you. Next port's your choice."

"Truly?" Anya clasped her hands together as if in prayer, her eyes shimmering with glee like pearls from the Naldoan Sea...until she realized that the burden had been thrust upon her shoulders, and then a storm cloud took residence above the ocean and obscured their glow.

Migelo nodded his head at her, urging her to accept responsibility. What a terrible mistake that was, for pirates usually abhorred any sort of social responsibility unless it was for their own selves. Balthier and Fran would not judge her no matter what the choice, but Basch and Vaan, whose thoughts mattered to her now, definitely would. There was nothing to be lost. Except their freedom, of course, if they were to be caught again, and prison was nothing to be fancied.

"I think..." Balthier stared at Anya, secretly crossing his fingers. Say Balfonheim or even Rozarria. Anywhere but... "Bhujerba it is. I think we should go save Penelo. Also, I worry for your handkerchief."

Knowing it wasn't only this Migelo fellow who blamed him for the girl's abduction now, Balthier reluctantly turned to the two new members of his crew and sighed. They had better be useful. Especially Vaan, that little rat (and it didn't matter whether his ratting had been done by accident). "Make yourselves ready. We leave soon."

Ugh. He knew hope never amounted to anything.

**XIIXIIXII**

Vaan scampered into the Aerodrome. Calmly walking in behind him, Basch wasn't certain if the reason was the boy's worry for Penelo or the excitement that flew along with the thought of riding an airship for the first time. He himself was never one to enjoy these flights, but as long as there were no exaggerated loops or steep, sudden dives, he would be fine... Maybe.

Vaan's inability to control the way his jaw just fell to the ground gathered many raised eyebrows, but was that his fault? He'd never once bothered to step into Rabanastre's Aerodrome, a choice he now regretted. Past the clamorous noises and yellow mustard mixed with chocolate brown columns that surrounded him, Vaan could already hear the humming of the airships as they took off, and could inhale the smell of the glossair engines exhausting their skystones' power! If this was what being a sky pirate was like, he couldn't wait to get his own airship!

After he rescued Penelo, of course.

"There they are!" said Anya, snapping Vaan out of his daydreams and pointing to two persons far ahead of them-- Balthier and Fran. At the other western end of the Aerodrome, they stood by a vacant waiting lounge, a circular divan looking out to the hangars facing Dalmasca's Westersand. "You should go on ahead; I'm sure Balthier will have a few rules to impart. I'm off to the registration counter--" she told Vaan before he could ask, "to notify them of our leave. It's a must, or they'll come looking for us out of suspicion."

With a nod, Vaan deliberately dawdled towards Fran and Balthier to take in every wonderful and amazing aspect of the Aerodrome, speeding up only when he remembered his best friend. Amused, Anya shook her head and moved herself to the registration counter across the Docent. There, the woman standing by the counter smiled at her accommodatingly.

"Good day, ma'am," she said. "Would you like to register your ship's arrival or departure?"

Anya returned her polite smile. "Our departure, please."

"All right. May I have your airship's name?"

"Erm," Anya bit her lip. They had too many names for the Strahl! The _Nautilius_? _Blackjack_? The _Invincible_? "I think it was...um...tsk. I can't remember."

The lady stared at her patiently before directing her hand to something behind Anya. "Maybe the sir would know. Your uncle, perhaps?"

Turning around, Anya's eyes went wide. What was he still doing here? Uncle? What made the lady think that? "No, he doesn't know. It's his first trip out of Rabanastre with my...family."

"I see. Well, ma'am, I can also check by the hangar letter and number, if you know one of them."

Yes! Balthier wouldn't kill her after all. "I know them both! The hangar is P-27."

Relieved as well, the attendant chuckled and scanned one of her many clipboards. "Ah! Here it is. The _Highwind_, was it?"

"Oh, yes, the Highwind! Of course, thank you. We're leaving right away."

"After you sign this, ma'am." The woman tapped a space on the piece of paper's clipboard and handed her an inked magicite pen. _Adela_-- Anya wrote, then paused to think-- _Tribal_, she added, with a silly star serving as a dot to the name's 'i'. "Thank you for visiting Rabanastre. Do come again!"

"We will!" Anya shouted back as she walked away from the counter. _I hope._ Looking to Sir Basch who was now walking beside her like an obedient dog who'd been waiting on its master, she was tempted to ask why he had not gone with Vaan. But then she remembered when Fran told her how humans always spoke so excessively and how they asked questions that needn't be asked anyway, and she controlled herself...wondering if it was possible for Humes to also think excessively as she just seemed to have.

"_Psst_. Hey, you, girl." Stopping, Anya looked around. Before Basch could ask why, his new ally approached a man he did not know and loudly asked what it was he wanted.

"Do you see that man?" the Hume asked her, pointing to Balthier by the waiting lounge with Fran and Vaan. Anya glanced at the stranger (who smelled like he spent an awful lot of time in the Sandsea) with a smirk and nodded. "His name is Balthier," he continued as she judged him. He was terribly gaudy. His sleeves were puffed out in all the wrong places, his boots were too colorful and too high, and in general, his clothes were literally too shiny. A boor who had amassed a considerable amount of money and decided to masquerade as a noble, but without any real class-- that's what this was.

"A sky pirate, famous for taking many of the most irretrievable items all over Ivalice. And loot isn't the only thing he's good at attracting and taking. I'd tell you, but you're too young."

Anya gasped. "What might you-"

"He has two partners, from what I've heard. One's a little girl, and the other's supposed to be that voluptuous Viera beside him. Isn't she a vixen? He's got odd tastes, but he's a lucky bastard..."

At this, the 'little girl' huffed and glared up at the gossiper, angered and embarrassed by his crude language. "Balthier does not have other women...If you actually thought about half of the things you just said, you'd know that a sky pirate of his calibre does not have time for any kind of harlot! And even if he did, he would not stoop to your level and entertain them!" she fumed, unconsciously shoving the now terrified man into an Imperial. "And how dare you call her 'voluptuous' and 'vixen' in such a depraved manner, you raffish pig! She is not a vixen! She-"

"Oy! What's going on here?" The Imperial whom Anya had pushed the stranger into stepped in between them. "You tryin' to disturb the peace, girl?"

Backing up slightly, Anya opened her mouth and pointed angrily at the perverted Hume.

"Please, excuse-- excuse my niece. She is most specific with terms and did not appreciate this man's use of the word _vixen_ on a Viera." It was Basch who made this save, having rushed to Anya's side when she had started screaming. Ignoring the shocked look on her face, he said to the Imperial (who obviously did not know _his_ face, thank the Gods), "A term never respectfully used on women, you know. She gets very wound up at these things."

"Oh. A grammar Rozarrian, then? Forgivable, as long as you don't always harass these idiots around 'ere," the Imperial laughed, but stopped when he faced Anya's object of irritation. "And you. If you've nothin' to do but harass little girls, get out!" Grabbing the stranger by the arm, he pulled him to one of the darker areas of the Aerodrome for another scolding.

"Thanks," mumbled Anya as Sir Basch steered her in Balthier's direction. Feeling very foolish and regretful again for losing to an intervention, she added, "I think I might have gotten killed if you didn't stop me."

"Or worse," Basch muttered, realizing that this sky pirate was not as reserved as her two foster parents. Finding the way he seemed unable to grasp the entirety of her odd personality (if she actually had a distinct one) irritating, he said nothing else.

Upon reaching the others, Anya received admonishment from Balthier for her noise (and Vaan's, too, when he tried to ask her what that was all about) -- he told her that freedom was more important than reputation. But secretly, once ahead of the others on their way to the Strahl's hangar, Balthier handed her a smile. Any father would be proud of what she'd done, his smile proclaimed, and they could not have asked for a better...third partner? Cast member? A certain word danced in his mind, but he dared not imply it now.

"Whoa!" was all Vaan could muster at the sight of the airship before him. If his jaw seemed to just fall to the ground before, now...now it just popped off. Pop. Ching.

"This is the _Strahl_," Balthier thought to say, smiling proudly in the direction of his airship as if to showcase it to the boy. Vaan's amazement amused him greatly, but he wasn't surprised. Who wouldn't be amazed? The Strahl was a mixture of tawny outlines set on a silver base and intricate indigo designs on its rear's folding wings, and not only that. Two long and narrow cannon-like structures jutted out from below the cockpit and rested on a pair of the ship's large glossair rings, giving off the illusion that it was actually armed (luckily, not many realized that it was actually just a stabilizer). It was a good bluff that always proved to deter their pursuers. "She airship enough for you?"

"The _Strahl_..." Vaan repeated as if in a trance. Unknowingly shoving Balthier out of his way, he smiled a wide smile. This was the _greatest day_ of his life! Right after he saved Penelo, he'd give her kidnapper what was coming to him and then they could fly off to wherever they wanted to go! ...With Balthier's permission, of course. Probably. Maybe. "You guys really are sky pirates!"

"If only the headhunters didn't think so," muttered Balthier, remembering why they were setting off in the first place. On the bright side, he had wanted to get out of Rabanastre's burning streets-- but quickly forgot his previous thoughts when he saw Nono and his friends hopping off the airship. "What's the good word?" he asked his mechanic with a wave, "Is she ready?"

"Readier than you'll ever be, kupo!" Nono laughed, raising his hand in an air high-five with the Hume.

Balthier grinned. This was one of Nono's finer moments-- unfortunately, he spent most of his time being pampered by Anya. "You know I must beg to disagree."

"Disagree all you want, kupo!" Nono shrugged, waving his hand at Balthier and stuffing his screwdriver into his lime-green pocket. Oh, these Humes. Always with the jokes! ...No, really. What was so funny?

"Nonooo!"

Suddenly, the moogle, too, forgot his thoughts and looked up. Who cared now? "Anyaaa!"

And the two ran towards each other, the first with his orange pom-pom bobbing in the air and the second with her hairy pouch nearly tearing her elbows off, ignorant of the funny looks they received from the two blonds in the group (though the more restless one resumed asking numerous questions about the airship afterwards). Anya caught Nono by the hips and twirled him round and round with her until they could take it no more and fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

"Oh, I missed you too, Nono," she cooed, squeezing his cheeks mercilessly.

Nono held his complaints about the squeezing back only because he felt the same, but that didn't mean he would admit it. "It's only been a week, kupo! Don't tell me you sat around for seven days wishing we'd come back, now?"

"Tsk, tsk," Anya wagged her finger playfully at him. "Nono, I thought I told you to stop working things around! Don't tell me that's what _you_ did...again."

"Ah! I've been cau-"

Leaning against the doorway, Balthier cleared his throat and interrupted, "Anya, stop babying him. He's a grown man-- moogle. Coming?"

"Uh-oh," giggled Anya and Nono to each other, their backs facing the Strahl's captain, "he's mad now!"

Lifting an eyebrow at the two _children_, Balthier shook his head and made his way to the cockpit. "I'm going to count to three, and if you aren't here by then, it'll be fare-"

"Eep! Coming, came, here, gone!" Riding piggyback on Anya, Nono zipped past the hand that fed him and instantly found specially cushioned seats behind Fran in the cockpit. Staring up curiously at the malnourished yet muscled man standing before him, he raised a finger to-

"Fran, our course," said Balthier, entering the cockpit with the rest of the group and taking his seat beside his partner. At least Vaan did not take to giggling with them yet. Hmm. That would be very disturbing.

"The shortest way's over Dorstonis," she replied, routinely pressing buttons and pulling levers on the panel before her to prepare the Strahl for another flight.

Basch stared back down at the small, grass green vested Moogle sitting on Anya's lap. The little thing had taken his place...wait, no. He didn't mean on the girl. He meant the seat. Or her lap. By its outlines on her shorts, he could tell she did a lot of running. What other parts of her body did she exhaust in her profession, he wondered? Wait! He didn't mean...ugh. He'd just meant the seat...

Hoping to discard the thought of laps and body parts and anything that had to do with women, Basch looked over the two pilot seats and turned only to Balthier. "How flies Bhujerba?"

"Oh, she's free as can be, for now," considered the Strahl's captain, all events that ever happened in Bhujerba coming to mind. He shook them off with a shudder. "The Empire took notice when they announced the princesses' unfortunate suicide and your untimely execution..." So much for shaking them off, if only at least the sudden awkwardness in the air.

But Basch could feel nothing in it but skystone exhaust and continued, "If it becomes known that I am alive, the Marquis will lose their favor."

"Which makes one wonder why that fool of a man couldn't just keep his mouth shut."

"Mmm," Balthier hummed, pretending not to hear anything from behind Fran as Basch took the seat two rows behind her. "_We_ try to steer clear of such things. Right! It's time to fly. And no wagging tongues," he said, looking to Anya and Nono accusingly, "or you're like to bite them off."

The hangar gates withdrew themselves at these words and the sound of the ship's skystones finally taking effect. Its glossair rings spinning at full speed, the Strahl rose out of the Aerodrome. The specially-designed folding wings on its back extended themselves to give the ship some leverage, and once the Strahl was set in its destination's direction, the rockets wound themselves up and sent the ship hustling through the bright blue skies of little Rabanastre.

Vaan gazed out from the cockpit's window, eyes shining with determination. If this was possible, anything was now. _I'm coming, Penelo._

"One time!" Nono gasped once the Strahl was steady in the air, sticking his index finger out in irritation. "One time, kupo! Besides, Anya dared me to do it..."

"And you were foolish enough to take it," Fran replied, able to sense the bashful grin Nono had taken up on his face although she didn't take her eyes off the control panel.

"I hope you've learned your lesson," said Anya, shaking her head in feigned disappointment. "It was a very dangerous thing to do, Nono..."

"Wh-what? But you're the one who-- oh, I'll just keep quiet..." Nono sighed and hung his head, causing Balthier to chortle, Anya to laugh uncontrollably, and Fran to grin in amusement. How glad she was that things were back to the way they normally were. They weren't normally off to Bhujerba to save little Hume girls from Bangaa bounty hunters, but it was a start.

Meanwhile, the two patriots in the airship glanced at each other unsurely. Would they laugh with the others, even with the little knowledge they had, and risk being laughed at for trying to step out of their places? Vaan at least took consolation in the fact that he knew Anya to some extent, but Basch felt completely alienated. It wasn't that he cared for this trio of sky pirates and their mechanic/pet; he'd once thought that the moment he escaped from Nalbina, everything would go back to the way everything was before and all he would have to think about was how to liberate Dalmasca. Simple as that! Now that the first thing had happened, he barely knew what to do next. He had forgotten how to speak with others, how to engage them in normal conversation and have them keep their confidence in him.

Realizing that they carried two new passengers on board who knew nothing of what they had laughed at, Balthier summoned Anya. Not that it actually mattered to him whether the two were comfortable, but it was no doubt Nono would start whining about how they mistreated him after all he had done for them again if he didn't send them off now. The little thing complained so much that Balthier thought he memorized his speeches already...

"Is something wrong?" asked Anya, standing as her _Tatah_ motioned her to him. "Did Nono forget to fix the thrusters again?"

"Not to worry, it isn't that," he chuckled quietly, hearing a tiny voice squeaking out another 'one time, kupo!' from behind him. "I fear our new..._friends_ might find us inhospitable. Would it disturb you terribly to show them the cabins?"

"Not too terribly," she answered laughingly. Then, as she turned to the two blonds behind her, Anya gave them an almost maniacal grin. Clapping her hands loudly, she announced, "All right! Everybody stand. Stand. Stand! These seats are too uncomfortable, don't you think?"

Vaan and Basch stared at her blankly. The thought of her episode in the lobby just a few minutes ago made them wonder how she would react if they said the seats were just 'all right' or 'just fine.'

Actually, it was more of just Basch wondering than Vaan at all. "It's all right."

"Not all right enough. What do you think, Nono?"

"I think I want a cup of cocoa. Good day to you, _Madam_!" he huffed, hopping off his and Anya's seat and stomping his way out of the cockpit. The blonds looked to Anya in confusion again.

"Oh, we're always like this," Anya explained, silently giggling at their confusion. She partially giggled at herself, too. They really were always like this in the Strahl, their home, where they could be anyone they wished...anyone in the present, of course. No pasts were allowed. "It's the exhaust from the glossairs. You'll get used to it, I promise." When the expressions on their faces didn't change a bit, she sighed. "Basically, it's my task to follow him when he begins to sulk. The Strahl-- she's steady now; you can walk around if you wish. Down the hall to the left is the kitchen, if you'd like something. To the right is a line-up of her four available rooms that contain two beds each. Sleep wherever you like, but the bed far from the door in the first room is mine. Take care!"

Vaan didn't wait Basch's approval or companionship to follow Anya down the hall, though he turned right to the cabins. Those wonderful, bed-filled cabins. With pillows. Soft ones. He hadn't slept on those in a while. And he was sleepy. This day overall was almost completely confusing and stressful...

If this was what being a sky pirate was like, he couldn't wait to go on his own adventure!

Heeding-- or not heeding-- Anya's warning (or whatever she'd meant it to be), Vaan stealthily entered the first room. At least, he thought he did. Once the door was fully closed, he looked around in amazement. So this was what a girl's room really looked like! A girl other than Penelo, that was. Penelo never decorated her room too nicely or anything like that. She always wanted to keep things simple. A flower here, a few decorations there... It was kind of boring.

Still, the room-- the area around Anya's bed, anyway-- was different from what he had imagined. Her sheets and pillows weren't decorated with flowers or anything girly at all! There were a few pink flowers on the desk beside her bed, but he wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't have such a good sense of smell. What were drowning out the fragrant scent were the colorful daggers that hung on her wall and a bunch of other weird accessories and metallic knick-knacks she kept around the place.

Of them all, he found a certain armlet interesting. He took it from its perch and gave it a closer inspection. Diamonds dotted all its three golden swirls and must have cost a fortune! Knowing Anya (or thinking he did), Vaan thought she probably would have sold it...so why didn't she? He could have bought an airship bigger than the Strahl with this already.

"Vaan? What are you doing?"

"Basch!" he gasped, instantly shoving his hands behind his back. "Hi...what are _you_ doing here?"

"I saw you enter the room and wondered why you would come here when Anya clearly stated that she slept here." Vaan blinked at his new...travel...mate. Wow. Basch didn't know the meaning of 'subtlety', huh? Then again, he'd only heard Penelo mention that word once. "What do you have there?"

"O-oh, nothing." he lied, and began to think he was very good at it (and had a future as a sky pirate because of it) until Basch lifted a knowing eyebrow. "All right, all right!" Vaan placed the diamond armlet back on its roost. "I was going to put it back, see?"

"And I was merely asking you a question. I'm sorry if you felt attacked by it somewhat." Basch replied, backing away. Then, seemingly embarrassed, he muttered, "The truth is, Nono is making...hot chocolate...for everyone. They sent me to ask you if you wanted a cup."

"Uh, yeah, I want one!" Vaan exclaimed, walking to the door hurriedly and slamming it on his way out.

Basch noticed he had quite the habit of doing that, but it didn't really bother him. The same diamond armlet Vaan held earlier had caught his attention as well. Not because he wanted it for himself, no-- he had no use for money, and neither did the Resistance, he knew. It was just so unwise to keep such a valuable thing to oneself. And if he'd learnt something of these sky pirates from the few hours they spent together, they were sensible. Sensible in that they preferred gil, something they could actually use, to accessories and ornaments such as this.

This thing had to hold some importance to them. After all, no one abandoned their homeland for no reason. Moving closer to the ornamented wall, Basch tapped the armlet thoughtfully. Through this...

"Anya. Have you seen our other guest?" said Balthier, causing Basch to swiftly return the armlet and turn to the door in surprise. They were right outside the room. "Or has Dalmasca's former captain found that he has no taste for Nono's famed hot chocolate? Perhaps he has retired into one of the rooms?"

"I haven't seen him since Nono decided to make hot chocolate," Anya replied. "Maybe he returned to the cockpit to be with _Amba_."

"What?" Balthier asked in an almost bewildered voice. "That's very unlikely. Come, I'll show you myself."

"Whatever makes you happy..." she mocked his words in Nalbina's dungeon. Basch could hear Balthier scoff and leave in the direction of the cockpit, Anya following suit. Once the sound of their footsteps died down, he turned back to the armlet.

Through this, he could learn their purposes...

Later.

**XIIXIIXII**

"Oh, Bhujerba, my marvelous sky city! The two weeks in which I've not seen you feel like a year in my aching heart!" Anya mused, standing from her seat in the cockpit and leaning over Fran's to view the sky city in all its glory. "With your lush green valleys and over and underlying clouds...oh, oh! Look at those bright sapphire skystones! They're like crystalline flowers, frozen to preserve their beauty for all eternity!"

Balthier sighed. "Finished, Anya?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Quite so."

And so, the Strahl was settled to land in the marvelous sky city's own Aerodrome under the alias of the _Falcon_. But before disembarking and leaving her to Nono, Balthier instructed the Mog to fly the Strahl back to Rabanastre should they not return in a day's time.

"Do you think there's a chance we might not be able to get back to Nono?" Vaan asked Anya as they walked into the Aerodrome's main lobby. Aside from the structure of the hangars, it looked almost exactly like Rabanastre's. It felt the same, too, just colder, and the air was so much fresher; so much more invigorating. "I mean, why would Balthier give that order if...?"

"I don't know," replied Anya absent-mindedly. There were too many Imperials running around here anxiously for comfort. She thought she even heard one of them mention not being able to see a certain 'him'. Whoever this 'him' was, he'd better not be one of them. "Who do you think those Imperials are looking for?"

"I hope it's not any of us," Vaan echoed her worries.

"Did you two hear me?" Balthier suddenly asked, turning his head to the adolescents. In truth, all five of them thought the Imperials were there to search for Basch. Only Fran had calmed her nerves enough to realize that none of these soldiers could have possibly recognized the former captain in his new, cleaner state of being.

"No, sorry, what?" asked Anya.

"No names," Balthier repeated, putting emphasis on the 'no' and the 'names'. "I can't stress how important that is. Take aliases if you must give them something."

"Understood," Fran nodded, making her way to the entrance. "We should leave now. I do not imagine that Ba'Gamnan is wise enough to prepare something in the wake of kidnapping the girl, but it's best not to take any chances."

"To Travica way, then," said her partner, and as the rest thought nothing wrong with the idea, they followed.

Travica way had not changed since the time before Nabradia's fall, thought Basch, undeniably nostalgic. There still hung a tangerine bridge in between its Aerodrome and the stairs ascending to its central fork, the grates on its surface releasing the rust into the air whenever there was a draft. From what he could see on the bridge, Bhujerba itself had not changed much. Tall houses and buildings, as well as the 'crystalline flowers' Anya had noted earlier, still protected the sky city's dwellers from violent winds that flew into the city from time to time. Only the amount of Archadian soldiers sent him into a fit of unease, despite what Balthier imparted.

"The Lhusu mines are just up ahead," Balthier continued speaking as they passed through the bridge, stopping only to wait for Vaan, who had felt the need to lean over the brick railings in a show of bravery and fecklessness. "Though I hear there's not much left there these days..."

"It's nothing surprising," Anya shook her head. "They're digging through even the exhausted mines in a desperate attempt to supply more magicite. To whom, no one can say."

"You're on your way to the mines?" a voice that broke here and there interrupted.

It belonged to a child-- a boy-- almost just as reckless as Vaan: he'd propped himself up on the railings and inserted his feet into one of the bridge's carvings so as to watch the clouds drifting across the sky below. Charcoal strands stopped atop his neck-- a rare hair color in Archadia and Bhujerba-- and he certainly was from one of these two places, judging by his extravagant clothing, because no child from Dalmasca could afford such fashionable shoes and stockings (also, Rozarrians were hardly ever light-skinned). And, Fran and Anya thought, there was something about his attire's entire color scheme that was oddly familiar...

When no one bothered to reply, the child jumped off his ledge and approached them with a polite bow. "Then please, allow me to accompany you. I've an errand to attend to there."

With much distaste, Vaan stuck his tongue out thoughtlessly. Were he and Anya (not counting her funny talk) the only ones without weird accents? Personally, he didn't have anything against this kid, whoever he was, but Vaan had never taken well to rich or well-to-do children. The ones he met before were always so hoity-toity with everything. How come they got to keep their parents? How come their brothers got to choose where to be stationed just because they had money? How come they had everything they didn't deserve?

Being the only one not to have noticed Vaan's odd reaction to the child, Basch asked, "What manner of errand?"

"What errand?" the boy seemed to put some thought into his words before saying, "I might ask the same of you."

Balthier frowned, knowing there would be no way around this child. "Right, come on then."

In a tone that sounded almost as bewildered as Balthier had in the airship, Vaan gasped, "_What_?"

"Excellent," the boy smiled proudly.

Unaffected, the much inverted smile on Balthier's face deepened. "Do me a favor and stay where I can keep an eye on you. Should be less trouble that way," he said sternly.

"For us both," the child nodded.

Still not happy with this sudden addition of another companion and the way he could already finish sentences with a sky pirate, Vaan crossed his arms at the child and stared at him in the same judgmental way Vossler had him. The others overlooked it only because it was the same way he acted when they first met Basch. "So what's your name?"

"Oh..." The boy blinked numerous times. Fran narrowed her eyes at him. So he hadn't thought of that yet. "I- uh, I'm Lamont."

The kid seemed...scared enough. And even if he did speak fancily, Vaan thought, he wasn't all hoity-toity. Surprisingly, Lamont was actually okay. So now was his chance. He grinned smugly, rubbing his nose in an attempt to show how dependable he was along with his companions.

"Don't worry. I don't know what's in that mine, Lamont, but you're in good hands...right, Basch?" he asked, coolly looking to the former captain as if they were the best of Dalmascan kin.

Oops.

Fran looked away, somehow knowing this would happen, and refrained from covering her face with her hands. Anya bit her lip anxiously and squeezed her eyes shut, as if enduring much pain. The pain of having to admit to knowing Vaan, that was! Balthier and Basch glanced to each other, shocked that they were actually shocked at Vaan's _innate carelessness_, then exasperatedly turned to the young Rabanastran who had brought them all together and growled under their breaths.

Vaan had this funny feeling that the two older men in the group wanted him dead...but since they didn't say anything, he was probably just being paranoid...he hoped.

"Shall we?" Lamont asked, thinking to walk ahead. Looking up to the steel that joined the bridge in connecting the Aerodrome to the rest of Travica way, he said, "The mines are not too far from here. Or do you wish to rest first?"

"Does he look like he wants to rest?" Balthier muttered as he walked past Lamont, pointing to a certain boy (Vaan, who else?) who'd already gotten far ahead of them. Actually, Lamont was just in the process of being left behind. "Teenagers..."

Well, the faster they got to the mines, the better, so Lamont didn't really mind. These people were interesting in the least, he thought optimistically, speeding up to reach them at the central fork.

"Hey! I think I see him!"

Basch, the other blond boy in only a vest who'd spoken to him, the other male adult in the group who seemed to be the leader, the girl in a singlet who'd been staring at his chest since he 'introduced' himself to them, and the silent, scantily clad Viera lady turned around. Lamont watched all of their faces. Why did they all look so alarmed? No ordinary civilian would have been so stiff. Perhaps they were of true interest...but he would have to wait after his escape from another batch of Imperials!

"Run!" Vaan gasped. It seems he had the same thing in mind. Holding onto Lamont's wrist and turning right to run down the stairs into the shop area, he waved at the others to hurry up and follow.

Balthier clicked his tongue hard and reluctantly followed, motioning for the others to do the same. Basch obviously had no choice; Fran began to run only when Anya's hand was tight and secure in hers already.

"Not there!" Balthier hissed at Vaan, turning to the armory at his right. Imperial guards were stationed at every area, and the boy had almost collided into one of them on his way to the Khus skygrounds below!

"R-right," Vaan shook his head and tugged for Lamont to keep going forward through the shops. How could the empire have found them so quickly? Was it because he accidentally mentioned Basch's name when Balthier clearly said 'no names'? There were hardly any Imperials around! Unless...all the civilians were secretly Imperials!

"Wait," Lamont halted, holding his free hand up to stop Vaan. "Where are the rest?" The two looked around, completely clueless, and saw none of their four earlier running companions. Incidentally, they had stopped right in front of another passage to the Cloudborne row area... and the 'running companions' they succeeded in finding were less likely to make a disappearing act no matter how much they wanted them to.

"Look!" one the Imperials shouted, "It's him!"

"Why are we hiding? Those Imperials aren't even playing with _us_. They were obviously seeking that Lamont boy," Anya grumbled, ducking behind a rack of magick tomes with Fran. It was her_Amba_'s decision to enter this store, to corner themselves, but she knew she had to trust her.

"The boy's stance was questionable," Basch frowned, pretending to look through a closet full of weapons as three Imperials entered the shop after them and yelled orders at each other. "But wasn't it best earlier to take no chances?"

"Still, we were not secure enough," Fran shook her head. The guards were still here. "We will need masks. For the boy, if not for us."

"A disguise, then, is our best chance to the mines." said Balthier, casually walking circles around the armory they'd entered. As he moved to the edge of the shop and rested his hand on the handle of a dirty mop, a bright idea sparked in the leading man's mind. "Look around for pieces of one. We leave on three."

"Now!" Anya whispered at the count of three and nearly walked through the doors of 'Mait's Magicks' in unconstrained haste. Fran squeezed her shoulder to calm her down and strode out of the magick store as if they had actually shopped in it...well, they did. They just forgot the part where one had to exchange gil for the items she took.

"There you are," Balthier called out as he left the armory called 'Targe's Arms', rapidly approaching Fran and Anya. "I assume we've all come to the same conclusion. What do you have?"

"A sack," Anya answered, holding a bag of wolf skin up in the air as they followed Fran towards the Miner's end area, southeast of the magick's shop in Anya's mind. "Not as durable as my pouch, but it's got double padding. I don't know what it's for. We'll give it a purpose, I'm sure, and _Amba_ managed a few bangles. How about-- is that a mop?"

"What's left of it," her _Tatah_ shrugged, showing her the thick and super-absorbent locks of Greeden hair. After much nagging, Basch had helped him tear it off its handle. "Our friend the captain was too honorable to take anything, but this just might do."

Ignoring Balthier and the funny looks Fran and Anya sent him, Basch asked, "Where have they gone?"

Anya groaned and stopped on the slope descending to another conjunction of marble hills. They could have gone anywhere in the sky city! Even out of it...or worse! They were captured! "This is not-"

"Shh," Fran held her forefinger up to her lips and glanced about slowly, resembling a vicious worgen on a hunt. "There." she turned to her left and pointed to the Technick shop above the hill they'd just passed.

As if on cue, Vaan lifted his leg and kicked the poor door of Clio's Technicks with all his might. His pain was not in vain. The decrepit old thing burst wide open, allowing him passage, as well as the young boy who'd accidentally brought himself along with Vaan. "C'mon, Lamont!"

"Halt! Halt!" Imperials in the Technick shop ordered, knocking racks and shelves of potions and scrolls over in their hurry.

"Over here!" Anya waved to the boys from the base of their slope, "Hurry!"

Lamont and Vaan slid down the hill without difficulty and threw their heads around hurriedly. "Where do we hide?" Vaan demanded.

"_You_ don't," Balthier answered, and with a very serious look on his face, he said, "Take your clothes off, both of you."

"What?" they both replied. "Why?"

"Enough questions!" Anya snapped, shoving her two juniors behind a ledge connected to the tall house Basch was leaning on. "Do you want to escape those Imperials or not? Take it all off! ...except the undergarments. That'd be disgusting."

"Fine," Vaan huffed, removing his vest. There wasn't much to take off, anyway. "But no looking!"

Anya rolled her eyes and turned around. Fran was also asked to avert her eyes, but only did so after telling Vaan not to flatter himself. This was not one of their most well thought out plans. They did not consider the amount of time it would take the child to remove all of his garments and paddings and the number of minutes Vaan would need to wear all of it, even with Balthier aiding him. Her leading man was already getting frustrated with Vaan's many side comments and refusal to listen to him ("No, Vaan, that goes in the _other_ hole! To your left! Left!").

Trying not to laugh at what she was hearing behind her, Anya cleared her throat and put on a serious face. "Imperials these days..." she muttered to Fran, watching the Archadian soldiers run into their line of vision. "They're just not as efficient as before."

"They choose quantity over quality," said Fran disapprovingly. The Imperials had spotted them! Judging by what she heard behind her, the four had almost finished their respective tasks. "Not a very wise choice, that."

"You!" Three Imperials approached them and peered at them carefully. What were they? Gypsies? Only those people still wore heaps of bangles with folded back shorts and sleeves. They didn't know they still existed, and in Bhujerba, no less. "We know you're hiding him. A young lad," said the first one, holding his arm up to his neck. "Yea high, black hair to his shoulders..."

Anya gulped and fearfully parted ways with Fran. Balthier and Basch, who had the wolf skin sack on his back, moved away from each other, too. The soldiers marched forward and stared down at the figure crouched down before them, holding his head in an almost fetal position. Hmm. The boy had the clothes, but they were too big for him! His arms stretched past the sleeves, so unless he'd suddenly enjoyed a large growth spurt, this couldn't be...

"Are you sure that's him?" asked an Imperial of another. "I don't think..."

The boy crouched on the ground looked up with a huge smile on his face. Wet and dirty-- almost black-- dreadlocks were sluggardly slopped on his obviously blond head. He was clearly in his late teens.

"You don't think?" asked Vaan, trying to imitate the accent Lamont (and for some reason, Balthier) used. He knew it was pathetic, but was it his fault? He wasn't raised to talk funny! "Don't be too hard on yourself, my good man! This is...such a good day! ...eh, what?"

If the five had the ability to see past the Imperials' helmets, they would have looked upon the horrified faces of traumatized Archadians who once thought that they'd seen everything. "But...where did the real one go?"

"All right!" Anya cried, falling to her knees and pounding her fists against an Imperial's shoe. "I'll tell you. I can't take this anymore! He- he forced my brother to change clothes with him, said he'd be arrested if he didn't...and then he said something about being tired of everything and leaving through the terrace!"

"By _Faram_!" they gasped, looking to each other in shock. The Kaff terrace of the sky city was an open area where one could simply loll about and gaze down at the clouds and airships passing under Bhujerba. Unlike the Khus skygrounds, which required a small amount of climbing before one could look over the edge, the terrace had no railings. And even if they did, a twelve year-old child could easily slip under them and... The thought made them want to behead each other by themselves instead of facing Vayne Solidor. Two of the soldiers ran ahead to the terrace, but one crouched down before Anya and lifted his visor.

Taking her hand, he said kindly, "Don't worry, miss, you'll not be arrested. On the contrary. On behalf of, well, all of Archadia, I thank you for aiding us in our search." Then, standing up, he turned to nod at the rest of the group. The skeptical looks they carried weren't too rare a sight. "Have a good day."

When he was gone, Anya whistled sharply, a smile breaking her previous act. "Seems they're not all bad." Aware of the glares she received from Vaan, Basch, and Balthier, she sighed. "'Twas a mere quip..."

"Is it safe now?" came a voice from the sack on Basch.

"From the Imperials, yes," Balthier answered, opening it and allowing Lamont, who'd been forced to climb in, some air. "But you'll find us not so easily-"

"Ugh!" Vaan groaned, lifting his sleeves up higher and scratching his arms viciously. "Lamont, your stupid clothes are so itchy! Get out of that sack and change with me." Basch looked to their Viera companion for her approval and received a curt nod. Well, that was more than he expected out of Fran. From what he saw of her, it seemed the woman only breathed out of necessity. So far, all the things he'd heard of Viera women were true.

"Thank you, sir," said Lamont to Basch gratefully as he set the sack down, but at the sight of the two women staring at him suspiciously, his cheeks flushed and his hands flew over his body. He was unable to remove Vaan's useless vest from his person until they turned around. "Here, Vaan."

"Thanks." Vaan snatched his vest and his pants from Lamont after tossing the younger boy all of his confusing clothes, wondering why Lamont couldn't just settle for easy-to-wear stuff like his vest. It was so much more practical. "Wow," he muttered, running his hands through his hair, "I'm never going to do that again."

"Agreed..." Lamont caught his clothing and easily put them on, wondering why anyone would want to wear such a revealing and cold vest over more practical attire like his own. Patting his hair back to its original shape, he said, "This _is _the most undignified thing I've ever done."

After reassuring the boy that it was only the most undignified thing he'd ever done so far and after returning their clothes to proper states, the sky pirates convinced Lamont to climb back into the sack. With the Imperials looking around everywhere and Basch looking like a laborer anyway, Vaan agreed, it was the only way. The six left the urban hills of Miner's end and arrived at Lhusu square, a resting area for miners who excavated the great magicite mine. The square contained a series of landings in between short flights of stairs that descended into the mine, and on them, merchants had set their stalls of food and drink. A well of water that sat right before the mine had also been built long ago, but it was no longer in use and dried up after the peddlers arrived.

Despite the curious glances they received from the merchants and the miners on their afternoon breaks, the five (plus Lamont inside the sack) were able to reach the mine unquestioned.

"The Lhusu Mines," Balthier told the others, mostly Vaan, who was gaping at the four tall columns and their connective beam that stood as the mine's entrance. "One of the richest veins in Ivalice."

"Under Imperial guard, no doubt," Basch added stiffly.

"Actually, no," Lamont shook his head as it popped out of the sack. "With but few exceptions, the Imperial Army is not permitted in Bhujerba."

Vaan and Anya met their eyes and raised eyebrows at this new information. The former was especially intrigued. The kid was definitely rich, but he knew a lot. The way Anya knew a lot about what those Resistance people wanted or needed to do. Unknowingly, Balthier and Basch had done the same. Basch was the more curious one. There was something painfully familiar about the boy, but he could not place it. A child's awareness of the political goings-on between Bhujerba and Archadia was not natural.

A lot was to be learned from their new companions, still.

"Well," Lamont spoke, snapping them all back to their wits (exactly what Fran was just about to do), "shall we proceed?"

* * *

Hey everyone! I hope you liked this chapter. Yes, Balthier is a sap when drinking. I honestly hate him when he's drinking. Because he's a sap.

**dmc87: Nope, nope, nothing was too spoilerific. :) Ding ding ding we have a winner! You're right. Anya has a special place in her heart for all the Bangaa in the world (except Ba'Gamnan, his crew, and other Bangaa bandits) only because their grunting and guttural voices remind her of a (really really really) less refined Captain Basch. Asking questions like this is fine! I welcome it, really, and your analysis of Anya in that part of the chapter is correct! Thanks very much for reviewing and giving your analysis on her and other characters. I love it when people do that 3**

If anything needs explaining to you, readers, PM me! Or put it in a review. No need to be scared, I'll answer anything as long as it isn't spoilerific. Spoilerificity (still a word...) depends with each question (and my answer), so you won't know if your question is spoilerific till you ask. :)

Heheheh, constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated as always! I copy paste too much.

Thanks so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

Oh wow, I'm back! And after exactly a month! Or less than a month by a day. Fine. Not much to say here, except senior year is reaaaaally fun! Considering it's just started out...blahblahblah, read on!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"What's wrong, Anya?" asked Vaan, placing his hand on the girl's shoulder. He'd seen her shudder when they reached the end of the stairs at the start of the Lhusu Mines and even seemed to walk closer to him. It was kind of amusing. He could understand her a little, since the cold air from the mines and the funny smell of dirty cart wheels mixed with rubble reminded him of the never-to-be-returned-to Barheim Passage, but he wasn't too scared...where was he again? Oh yeah. He grinned. "Scared of the dark?"

"No," scoffed Anya, moving away from him and crossing her arms with a high-held chin. Ugh, how the boy knew he had grown on her enough for her to condone his teasing, she would never find out. She looked around the vestibule after the stairs, lined with pillars very much like the ones guarding the mines and darkening the area, and tried to think of how silly Vaan was for even asking. Afraid of the dark? A sky pirate? "Don't place your scotophobia on me, Vaan."

"I don't even know what that means!" replied the boy, "But since you do, maybe you're the one who- mmph!"

Vaan watched his feet as he was dragged away by something whose hand covered his mouth and his nose into the shadows of the pillars. He was disappointed to find that it wasn't Fran, who'd done the same thing in the dungeons...not that he liked Fran or anything! She just smelled nice and had soft palms. Completely unlike the person who was cutting his air supply off at the moment, whose hands were rougher than sandpaper!

Rabanastre's greatest thief so far wasn't the only one who suffered under the grasp of the former Dalmascan captain, though for Anya it wasn't so much his hands as the thought of another man besides her Tatah holding her close. There might have been two others who had before, but that would be confusing herself with another girl.

Basch was apologetic for grabbing the two adolescents so suddenly, but he hadn't had a choice. When the sound of foosteps from the Mines came to his ears, Balthier, Fran, and Lamont had already dived out of the way. Vaan seemed to hear them too, now, and struggled to breathe, but the old Captain knew better and held his hand against his face tighter, though he did take his fingers off his nose.

The people approaching were not the headhunters Vaan thought they would be, and even in the beginning Basch was sure they would never be the girl's kidnappers. The steps he heard were slow and time-consuming, hinting on tight metal greaves, and the familiar clink and clank of armor affirmed his suspicions. Headhunters would never wear such encumbering things. He had seen some in his lifetime, and like the sky pirates he traveled with now, they preferred light clothing.

Still, this did not mean that they were not their enemies, and Basch kept his back to the pillars and his ears to the end of the vestibule, whence the loud steps came.

"You will forgive me for asking," rose a muffled voice from the din. This man was helmeted... Archadian. "But you are diverting the purest of Magicite-"

"I can assure you it reaches Lord Vayne most discretely," replied a voice muffled not by a helmet or any tangible thing but by time and hatred and hidden emotions only a Marquis who lost everything when he sent his friend and two nieces to their deaths could ever feel. But Basch knew nothing of this and was tempted to jump out then and there and demand an audience with him. Only a glare from the Viera (who'd seen him twitching and trying to ignore the temptation) and a shake of the head from her partner (who'd seen her and consequently, him) kept him in his place.

The helmeted man laughed and reached the stairs. "You wear your saddle well." Basch turned his head to better hear the voice and saw its owner. A Judge, not unlike his brother, but this one had golden armor and a helm with horns shot in a downward direction, and at the nape of his neck began a cape with the Archadian insignia...truly demonic.

The Marquis stopped in his tracks and rested his hands on his walking cane. He looked straight through the Judge's helmet and into his eyes, it would seem, and there was great defiance and pride in his wrinkled own, but he subdued most of it and instead held a calm expression. "Be that as it may, I have no intention of being bridled, Your Honor."

"Then you prefer the whip?" Balthier cringed at the man's unscrupulosity. Free thought did die with the two eldest Solidor brothers. "Stubbornness will see not only you broken, Excellency, but Bhujerba as well."

The Marquis made no reply and walked on, aware that this pleased the Judge but unaware of how it shocked his old friend, who would have forgiven him had he stood up to the Archadian as he had expected. Basch felt his disappointment and frustration rising as an almost ancient memory surfaced in his mind.

_Never again! Never again would he dream of one day being permitted to live in a castle or any such huge estate as the Marquis Ondore's. If ever he would be lord of a castle, something he now hoped never to achieve, he decided he would order that there be a different design for each pillar in the estate and not just repetitive, superfluously complicated and confusing arabesque engravings. Each hall's carpet would be a different color, and if necessary he would give them names as streets were named. Lieutenant Basch could appreciate the arts, yes, but if he kept losing his way like this, he would never be promoted Captain._

_"No! Why do I have to go, Lady Beivinn? We're not going to play there, are we? Please don't make me sit and eat with _old people_!"_

_"Now, now, I shan't let you slight your father any further. He has been lenient with you to a fault; do this one duty of yours for him."_

_"But...hmph! Oh, all right...for Papa. I'm happy I'm never going to be Queen; think of all the old people I would have to sit and eat with! There would be no use finishing first if they'd all be as chatty as Papa."_

_"I am so glad for you, little taciturn one..."_

_The Lieutenant could not help but smile at this exchange of silliness between a little girl and her governess, but as he turned the corner his sabatons screeched against the velvet carpet embroidered with gold and forced him into an accidental bow. For before him awkwardly pouted a sandy-haired child, a little past half a decade, with the complicated robes necessary for royalty and the Nabradian family crest hung around her neck. Holding her hand was a young woman not older than him dressed in a more varied uniform of the castle help, its simple design not too different from that of his own land's royal governess._

_"Shoulders back, stand tall! What have I taught you, dear one?" whispered the royal governess to her charge, who followed obediently and gave a curtsey._

_"Good morning, sir," she said in a tone so different from when she was mewling that he would not recognize her otherwise. "How goes your daily round?"_

_"Not yet, dear," said the Lady Beivinn, stepping forward and nodding her head at Basch formally. She said to him sternly, "Lieutenant Basch, was it? You were not to arrive or see Her Highness for a se'nnight. What is your business here?"_

_He was taken aback by her cold demeanor, having been met with smiles and kindness all day, but he supposed he could not change whatever opinion the woman had of him now and answered, "I assure you that it was not to find Her Highness unprepared and off guard. Truly, I was instructed to meet with His Excellency the Marquis in his drawing room, but I'm afraid I've lost my way..."_

_"Uncle isn't in his drawing room," said the child, ignoring her governess's plea to keep silent. "He's back in the courtyard practicing with his rebec. How pitiful are the birds there! Uncle Halim plays it as well as Rasler and the others do the piano!"_

_"Anastacia!" gasped Lady Beivinn, horrified and embarrassed for her charge. "You would not belittle your Uncle again if you knew what he'd achieved! You are not past mediocrity in playing the piano yourself."_

_"I'm certainly better than the rest of them," she said, and turning to the Lieutenant, Anastacia smiled. "Would you like to hear me play, Sir? I would dance, too, if Lady Beivinn allowed it. Do you know how to play hide-and-seek? It's become Rasler's favorite game, though he's horrible at seeking..."_

_"Oh my!" exclaimed Lady Beivinn, pretending to have seen the time on the large clocktower in the courtyard as her face grew red with embarrassment for her ward. "It is late; the Lady Anastacia has not yet had supper! And so we take our leave," she finished abruptly, curtseyed, and turned to walk away with the little girl._

_"Already? But I...Oh, bother," sighed the child, but curtseyed with an amused glint in her eyes. "Goodbye, Sir! I wish you well in meeting Uncle while he plays!"_

_The Lieutenant laughed and bowed just before Lady Beivinn disappeared behind the corner. "And you. I pray you know me when we meet again."_

_He departed from the west wing and sprinted down the stairs, unable to stop wondering if he had made the right choice. What would his mother have said? Noah would have laughed, thinking it to be a joke, only to glance at him in disgust and turn away when told it was not. And that astounded look on Vossler's face..._

_A horrid screeching sound sent his train of thought crashing through the courtyard. The Lieutenant followed the shriek to a familiar grey-haired, seemingly starry-eyed man on whose arms rested a small (but terrifying, now) rebec and greeted him with a perfunctory bow, "Your Excellency."_

_"Ah, Lieutenant Basch fon Ronsenburg. We meet again!" laughed the Marquis, motioning to a small rocking chair beside him. "Please, sit. Pardon me for calling on such short notice; I realized I'd still much to talk with you about."_

_"It is an honor to be called upon," said Basch, sounding painfully rehearsed, and continued, "Much to speak of, Your Excellency, such as...?"_

_"The wedding, of course! But before we do, I must ask that you refrain from performing such troublesome formalities to me in my estate. You will be visiting often now, and if you are to...well, I simply hate unfelt words. You will call me Halim in private. Are we clear?"_

_"Yes, Your Excellency...Halim. And the wedding," muttered Basch uncomfortably, "the wedding will not take place unless both parties agree, was that not the case?"_

_"This is true. But I must know: how do you feel about it? Do you believe it is necessary?"_

_"To protect Dalmasca and Nabradia, yes. With it, Rozarria will have no chance at an alliance, and neither will Archadia; as their Majesties have planned. A political wedding, as most weddings are in times of war. I pity the parties involved, but I do not deny that it is their duty to partake in the alliance."_

_The Marquis was silent for a minute. Basch had begun to think he'd gone too far when Halim spoke again. "I hope you will not always feel that way."_

_"If I may, Your...Halim, what I feel is not of any importance. I wonder: will this not outrage Rozarria, who humbly offered its young Prince Al-Cid; and Archadia, with its newborn Prince Larsa?"_

_"Showing anger over such a trivial thing would be showing weakness, and neither Rozarria nor Archadia is foolish enough to succumb to it. Worry not," said the Marquis, now as starry-eyed as Basch would ever remember him._

_"Alliance or not, war or peace, we will _never_ bow to them."_

What a difference Basch saw in him now, what frightening emotions did Halim's actions– or his lack of them– bring to his already heavy heart. What once inspired pride and loyalty now threw at him confusion and anger, blinding as the swirl of sand and dust clouds left from all the running he'd been doing since he joined these sky pirates and Reks's poor brother. And the former Captain had been such a solitary person since he turned eighteen that he could not remember how to express his emotions fully and coherently, that he did not realize the two adolescents squirming like earthworms trapped under grains of salt but really only under his hardening grasp. It was when the Marquis, the demon and their servants left that he released them and breathed himself; Vaan glared at him until he realized that the man would not take notice of him and joined Lamont.

The sky pirate shot him an inquiring look, but Basch was in such a daze that even he was ignored. Balthier turned away from him, his hurt pride unnoticed, and focused his attention on Lamont, his ebony hair and intelligent eyes brighter than ever. He wondered with much irritation if the boy had chosen them out of many others to accompany him or if they were the only ones foolish enough to enter the Mines at this time.

Lamont had skipped out of hiding to the foot of the stairs to stare after the Marquis. With everyone's gaze on him, he recited, as if reading from a book, "Halim Ondore the Fourth, Marquis of Bhujerba. The Marquis served as mediator at the negotiations of Dalmasca's surrender. It would appear that he is somewhat...less neutral now."

This attracted a glance from Basch, who, while he did not appreciate the Marquis now, did not appreciate any sort of criticism of his former friend from a child not even a third his age. But this went unnoticed too as an irritable sky pirate narrowed his eyes and replied, "They say he's been helping the resistance."

Lamont could no longer see the Marquis and returned his.s companions. "They say...many things."

"You're certainly well-informed," said the same sky pirate with contemptuous suspicion. There was another sky pirate in the room whose hidden contempt for this subject never seemed to end. "Who did you say you were again?"

Vaan gave a loud sigh and strode past the two. They talked and talked as if their saliva would spoil if they didn't! Now really wasn't the time for arguing nonsense. Really, these people with the same weird accents... "What difference does it make?" he demanded. Neither replied. "We have to find Penelo!"

"And Penelo is your...?" asked the little boy who'd been trapped in rich libraries growing up.

"Lover," Anya gurgled, trying to hide her laughter, spinning in her place beside Balthier and away from Basch as if she weren't waltzing to her death, to the Ba'Gangsaw that declared her bounty worth the trouble. Besides, she liked to waltz.

Vaan glared at her as if he didn't deserve the teasing and insisted, "She's a friend, just a girl-friend, a friend that's a girl, okay? She was kidnapped and taken here."

"She was, really," Lamont was told with big patronizing eyes by Anya, who could not refrain from being childish whenever she was around a child or a Moogle, but all the disrespect was for Vaan. "Kidnapped, I mean. That's why he's here, don't you see? To rescue his damsel and sweep her off her dainty feet..."

"O-oh, I see," blushed the child, who had only ever read of romance. "Are they engaged?"

"Not ye-"

"_Why_ are you believing her?" Vaan cried out in bewilderment with a flushed face. "I don't love Penelo, okay? I'm only even doing this because of Migelo!"

"Oh, yes. We'll be sure to tell her that when we see her again. As I said...a lot to learn," Balthier muttered dismissively and walked toward the real entrance of the mines, a dark little tunnel, the air around him as cold and still as his frozen shoulders. Only Fran knew the fear in his heart, and she was busy watching the confusion arising in Vaan's features.

"What?" he asked. "What do you mean? What does he mean?"

Her Tatah wouldn't come back once he walked away, Anya knew (he called it a dramatic exit, and one of the rules concerning that mini-game was not to return after the exit was made), so she shrugged. "We'll see. It'll be much easier when you grow up." And she ran to catch up with him again.

Basch didn't care much for their topic of conversation, though he did hope the girl was not harmed; and even if he did have something to say, he didn't want to intrude. Leaving the two, he went to walk closely with the only one he would think of trusting...not that he did; and Lamont followed the man in hopes of more stories about anyone but himself. Fran walked on.

Vaan watched them all go, still distressed, but noticed a tall figure stop in the middle of the tunnel, a beacon light in the constant darkness. "It is complicated," she said. "I have yet to fully understand it. But if you wish to speak of it to anyone when you do, I will listen."

Not one like the Behemoth's trying and failing to fly with its tiny wings but like a Danbania's graceful beating of its fins across the air, cutting through it like a knife, there was a flutter in Vaan's heart. And he bounded after its cause.

At the head of the group, Balthier was feeling worse than the time Anya heavily grazed his thigh with a bullet during a session of forced shooting practice. The Barheim passage he did not mind so much; they were making their way fast to an exit then, but...he hated mines. The long trail of tracks, never seeming to lead anywhere but death by cave-in, the eerie, fluctuating artificial lights that followed them everywhere, and tales of a great Wyrm from a faraway home deep in the earth awakening and crushing them with its wild flailing tail...damn. If any of them needed a good flogging, it was the children who'd insisted on coming here in the first place. The sky pirate shuddered. Only one way out of the place and he was walking further and farther away from it, to the headhunting bane of honest sky piracy.

He was given a little comfort when they came upon the beginning of the first span, the Oltam span, according to the map a little Moogle merchant had given Fran. It was a suspension bridge connecting one mine's tracks to another's, strapped to Bhujerba's base with thick black cables, Steelings nested in the darkness above, but all Balthier cared about was the wind on his face and the sunlight illuminating the sheets of thin clouds below. Thank Faram that the architects had enough brains not to add any walls in this area!

Now that Fran was finished with her analysis she stayed by Balthier's side, and Vaan was left to choose between a girl who would tease him to no end, a child who was too young to talk funny but did anyway, and an old captain whose guilt prevented him from having what Vaan believed to be important social interaction. He chose Lamont; being at least five years younger, he would at least have to listen to what he had to say.

But Lamont didn't have to, and when Basch had walked beside the other girl whose name was Anya, he subtly inserted himself in between them. When the leader of the group and his lady Viera were far away, he asked the girl, "Where do you come from?"

The girl looked down at him and at Basch, who pretended not to be listening. "Not here."

"Dalmasca?"

"Not Dalmasca."

"Archadia? Landis?" Had Lamont been looking to his right instead of his left, he would have seen Basch, the apparently unimpressionable man, raise his eyebrows. "I know someone from Landis."

Anya had her eyebrows raised too. "Do you? I knew someone who did."

"Really?" Lamont thought long and hard about her answer. These people were of the unpredictable sort. He wouldn't put it past her to attempt to trick him. "Was it you, the one from Landis?"

"No," she laughed, "even before I was born, Landis had long been ravaged by the two ruthless empires."

No one noticed Lamont's small frown at the mention of Rozarria and Archadia. "Nabradia, then?"

The girl paused with her mouth open, but by the time she came back to her senses, Lamont was already smiling in triumph. "I was Nabradian," she admitted quietly, "but I was sent away two years ago to Balfonheim to live with distant relatives when my parents and brother had all been..."

"Balfonheim?" Basch asked, taking Anya's sudden willingness to talk the opportunity to learn more about her and her 'parents'. "That is a dangerous place, home to..." he stopped and decided it would be better to leave the questioning to a seemingly innocent child.

"Riffraff and pirates, the scum of Ivalice? It's true. But it wasn't more dangerous than Nabradia. Had I stayed on, I would have died in the blast. Besides, the great pirate Reddas had already rid the port of any real danger. Where do you come from?" she asked Lamont.

His eyes widened for a moment before he answered, "I'm...Bhujerban. Our family moved here from Archadia before I was born to create a business."

"I see," Anya said slowly, "So you must speak Bhujerban."

"Bhujerban? I- well-"

"I do not think you are really Bhujerban if you cannot speak Bhujerban," she said to him in that language with a smile on her face, "Can you understand me, even?"

"I doubt he does or will," replied Basch in the same language. Lamont slipped away as easily as they spoke and joined Vaan, who was glad to finally have a companion. "I am surprised that you know Bhujerban."

Anya nodded, equally amazed by his fluency. "When you smuggle their wine, you pick it up." She laughed at his horrified reaction, and Vaan's and Lamont's behind him for they could not understand a word they had said. "I was only kidding! We should hurry. _Tatah_ and _Amba_ are leaving us..."

"Were you really from Nabradia?" asked Basch, switching back from Bhujerban, before she could avoid his question. How glad she was that only her _Amba_ could hear them. "Is that why you knew so much of Anastacia?"

"Princess Anastacia," she corrected him, "She was the princess. That could never be taken away from her, even in death."

"What did you think of her?"

"What any commoner would have thought. She was spoiled and forever spoiled she would be, destined only to gather support for her brother the future king and his wife forever- it was the least she could do. I don't know if she would have liked doing anything for anyone but herself."

Basch shook his head. "She was not that kind of person."

"Then tell me what and how she was," Anya said firmly, but her heart swelled with excitement. "I wish to know."

"I will, if you promise to return information to me in exchange."

"A done deal!" she squealed, and then she gasped at her lack of self-control. Basch watched her run off in a panic and thought to later ask her mother if she was ill.

By this time, they had left the Oltam span and entered another walled Transitway. In the middle of the way, the tracks split into two more, the left path leading to a shut gate and the right curving into the next span. But before Balthier could rise to see the light again he was forced to wade through the enclosed darkness, furthering the drop in his mood. The sight of Lamont walking around freely, his true identity undisclosed to the rest of them, as if he were part of their cast, as if he commanded their cast...if he were not so accustomed to keeping secrets, he would have let word of this little autocrat to his bodyguards already! And just what was that high-pitched...

He looked over his shoulder. Anya? Making a deal? With...the captain?

"Anya!" he called her, remaining collected. This didn't have to be madness; he would listen to an explanation. "A word..."

She came in between him and Fran and asked innocently, as if she hadn't screamed for all the mines in Ivalice to collapse, "Yes?"

"What deal did you make with the captain, little sky pirate?"

"Oh," she murmured, keeping her eyes on Balthier's nose, "He promised to...watch my back if I promised to Cure him when he was hurt."

"And you trusted him?"

"He can't do anything to me while he needs us, and I can't see the dangers of casting Cure when I barely use magick in battle..." she said hopefully.

Balthier nodded and asked for reassurance from Fran with a doubtful brow. He received it and passed it to Anya, who thanked the Viera with an embrace. They were liars, the whole lot of them, but they meant each other no harm. As long as they would not jeopardize their freedom, Fran would not reveal the lies only she knew specific truths to.

"Are you ill, _Tatah_?" Anya continued, holding the back of her hand on his neck. "Your pallid face worries me."

"I feel fine," he answered, brushing her hand away gently, "it's the lack of air is all. I'll survive. Now, shh."

Vaan and Lamont, who'd been discussing matters only a young man of twelve and a seventeen year old boy would both find trivial, stopped and considered the sudden silence. At the end of the Transitway there stood a dark Slaven, beady eyes blanketed by its thick, scaly lids as a small saddle belted round its throat to before its little shell, its breathing slow and heavy.

"It is sleeping," said Fran. "Whoever owns it..."

"The Slaven have been difficult to tame of late," Balthier whispered, walking around it carefully. "This must belong to that brute."

Vaan scaled the wall across Balthier behind the Slaven, guessing that something upsetting would happen if he didn't, and catching Basch's curious countenance across him, he said, "We saw Ba'Gamnan before we saw you. He's a big jerk, except to that Judge...you know, your-"

"Shh!" Balthier demanded, a stiff forefinger on his lips, his eyes on the mindful child beside the insensitive one, and with his free hand he took Fran's and pulled her out to the bridge. The rest followed as quietly as they could, wondering what the issue could possibly be. The second bridge was almost exactly like the Oltam, the difference being it had a twin, a longer bridge to its left. They still walked alfresco, however, and it made all the similarity Balthier needed.

Vaan subconsciously but consistently shifted his eyes from Lamont to the two sky pirates ahead of him with the back of their palms and their arms brushing each other as they walked and felt someone tap his shoulder. He could barely hear the little boy beside him saying, "Sometimes I think my family would be less...distant if my mother were still here."

"Oh, really?" said Vaan inattentively, feeling another tap on his shoulder. "You're lucky...you still have...your dad."

"I know. You know, I once had two older brothers, but they died in the plague."

"I lost my parents to th- Anya, will you stop that?" Vaan snapped.

"Stop what?" From his far left, walking alone, Anya glanced at him momentarily before revulsion occupied her face. "By Faram!" cried the sky pirate, dropping her Nanna skin sack as a dagger flew past Vaan's head, and then there was a croaking sound and a hard, bouncing thud felt on the ground behind him.

"Ugh!" Vaan jumped back as he turned and shivered at the sight of a headless skeleton, its arms frozen in a position meant to strangle him, its head on its side on the ground with Anya's dagger stuck in its eye. "Where did that come from? I thought they only came out in the darkness?"

"Not these undead," said Basch, slightly frowning at the body while Anya approached the head, stepped on it, and pulled her dagger out. "They've no insides to burn in the light, and nothing to fear but holy magick."

"They're less disgusting, at least, with the lack of bowels," Anya remarked, examining the skull she had taken. It was like a prize! "I suppose you dispose of them the way you dispose of the zombies. Oh!" she smiled at something that shone from beneath the tracks and tossed the skull aside.

"But why didn't they appear in the Oltam span earlier?" Lamont asked Fran. "May I see the map?" Fran took the map from a pouch on her side and handed it to boy. He cringed as he read it. "What's wrong?" he heard Vaan ask.

"Someone wrote this here, atop its real name...It says _Skeleton Hell_."

"Fitting," the three adults in the party muttered simultaneously.

"Why?" one of the younger ones (who'd all been preoccupied with their own business) dared to ask, but quickly regretted it when loud chattering exploded near his ears. Thrown aside by Anya, the skull had reconnected with its body and stood near Vaan, its chosen victim, and summoned the rest of its brethren with the rhythm of the clacking of its teeth.

Lamont backed against Vaan, horrified at the army beginning to surround their little pack. Each body carried a different suit of armor, a different design; some wore similar headdresses, carried like spears, but never exactly the same – these things died in different years, perhaps different civilizations, even. But what scared him wasn't their lack of insides, or the freakish ability of their eye sockets to curve down sinisterly and their jaws to twist upward, not their slow but menacing hulking or their ceaseless teeth chattering, but the fact that all of them were...

Hume.

"Why are they all...of our own?"

"_The Hume are destined for power_," Balthier said first in his mind and repeated to the child, running his hands through his hair and breathing deeply before he continued. "You stop at nothing for power...Damn you!" Taking his gun from its holster, he elbowed past the undead in his way and escaped back to the Transitway before the twin span.

"_Tatah_!" Anya gasped, watching him disappear into the mines. She was aware of his own father and his lust, but she did not understand why such a thought would catch up with him now, when he was the best at deserting memories. "Why would he leave us...?"

Fran, too, wondered at his sudden departure, but she was a more faithful woman and said nothing to comfort Anya, partially for disappointment. Instead, she faced the next possible leader and ordered, "Take care of the inexperienced one; the little ones come with me. Two separate plows."

"Understood," said Balthier's pupil, and Fran raised her leg in a high backward kick to knock the skull off an attacking skeleton. "Sir Basch, please come with me. We make for the end of the twin span."

The inexperienced one drew his sword; the plowing began. Basch moved forward, kicking and beheading any skeleton in their way (for decapitation drew the path to immobility with any opponent) as Anya advanced backward, her back to his, flinging her Nanna pack in every direction she could muster without hitting her partner and sending the skeletons around them flying.

With the magick-casting undead focused on the two, Fran and the little ones had lesser enemies to contend with. Theirs were equipped with greater spears and longer limbs, but Lamont was a tiny thing and did what Anya once could before she was tricked into taking a height-enhancing pill by their favorite headhunter. He and Vaan made an amazing pair, Lamont with the distraction and Vaan with the surprise attack. Everything was going well, in fact, and both plows had almost reached the end of the span when Anya swung her pouch just a little too hard at a carcass preparing to cast a spell at her.

Her swing forced the bag to pull its owner around and hit Basch, whose vision went black as he fell to his side with a thud and a clang, his head hitting the steel cart track.

"Sir Basch!" gasped Anya, both sheepishly and in a panic. Without his masterful sword techniques, she was a mere lunatic swinging an oversized pouch with her back completely vulnerable to attack! Kneeling down, she tugged at his arm and pulled him up to her thigh by the neck. The dried corpses surrounding her were beginning to chatter their teeth again, laughing at what she had brought down on herself (rather, on her companion) and at their triumph. Although all thought had disappeared with their lives, the skeletons had enough instict to know that the conscious large man and his blade were the only things standing in their way to having the two all to themselves. "Sir Basch," Anya called again, slapping his cheek and wondering hopelessly how she was going to swing her pouch while keeping the captain from the (bony) clutches of the undead. "Not again..."

Anya had already prayed and asked forgiveness from Faram for all her wrongful deeds and for Sir Basch's, if he had any, which she doubted highly, when all of the twin span was shaken by a beastly outcry near its entrance– a saddled Slaven stomped its bulky hooves at the walking bones in its path, its rider, a gun dangling against his holster, digging his heels into its sides to keep himself on the creature. In the midst of battle, Fran smiled. Vaan taught Lamont why it was appropriate to use and how to perform a high-five right at that moment. Anya was overcome with relief; Basch was still out cold.

"Apologies," said Balthier, reining the Slaven back to avoid the fleshy skulls of his companion and her aides. It proceeded to crush the carcasses round the younger sky pirate, instead. "Alhough it shouldn't be surprising that the leading man be the cavalry. My, my, what happened to our captain?"

"I did, mostly," Anya raised her hand, embarrassed, but she was too overjoyed at the sight of her _Tatah_ again to really care. "And where have you been?"

"Playing my part, naturally. Care for a ride?"

"A little help here!" requested Vaan, fighting off the remaining corpses, who had seen that the Slaven was distracted and his group was left somewhat neglected, with Fran and Lamont. The Slaven let out a gurgle from its throat in excitement and, without even its rider's command, went smashing the fleshless bodies and enjoyed the feeling of their bare bones under its feet. At Balthier's tug, it ceased, or it might have been the fact that there were no more skulls left intact. With the exception of the mellifluous sky pirate and the unconscious captain, the still living held their breaths and took a few minutes to regain their composure.

"Ugh," Vaan remarked, grimacing when he saw the bump forming diagonally above Basch's right eyebrow. "What did you do, Anya?"

"I refuse to explain myself," she huffed in reply. Clearing the bones from a spot on the tracks out, the girl took a seat, Basch's head still on her lap. "What do we do, _Amba_? I don't have ice. Ice magicks obviously won't work, and a healing spell isn't going to stir him."

Disdain found itself etched perfectly on Balthier's face. The gravelly ballast under the tracks and all the bones, even from a far sight above, was utterly filthy. Did she value this man's life so much that she would lower herself to this extent? ...It couldn't be. Of course, there was that deal they made earlier. "You promised him a healing spell in exchange for his protection, didn't you?"

"Looks like he needed protection from you," laughed Vaan, but nobody laughed with him, and kept himself quiet.

Lamont glanced at the leading sky pirate, who hopped off the Slaven (which promptly lay down to sleep again) and landed on his feet artfully. With Vaan's help, he was able to drag the captain's body to a crook in the mines after the span, where nobody would find him, and pointed to the ground. "You'll stay here with him and wait until he comes to. Get back on the Slaven outside if any more of our...not very lively friends arrive, and if we haven't returned in a quarter of an hour, leave. And make it quick."

"All right."

Ah, she was being obedient today. Perhaps... "You–Lamont–stay with her."

"My errand is further in, actually," was all the boy said. Perhaps not.

"Penelo's in there, I can't stay here!" said Vaan, and Balthier hadn't even looked at him yet.

"Fine," said the leading man, who was never taught that not always getting things his way came with the role, and went deeper into the mines.

"Wait, Vaan. Take this." Anya handed the boy a Stink Bomb, carefully. "It's saved our lives more than once now," she added, wiping the doubtful look from his face. Fran waited for the boys to catch up with her before she stepped gingerly into the next area of the mines, an extension of the walled area with dimming lights and a precocious sky pirate secretly fearing for their lives. As expected, Balthier was waiting for them by the stairs leading to what he hoped, prayed, and begged the gods would not be the their last breaths.

He remembered this pattern; the pattern on the walls running from the end of the span to the excavation Sites. It was made of the same material as those in the Ondore estate's cold hallways, and was probably crafted and built in at the same time. "I've learned," began Lamont, calling Balthier back from his memories. The boy was speaking with Fran, craning his neck to look her in the eye. "that even when they leave their villages, rarely still do Viera travel with those outside their race."

Fran stared back at Lamont and gave him an expression that very much resembled indifference.

Yet, he continued. "Why do you travel with them?"

"And _I_'ve learned," said Vaan as they ascended the stairs, whose railings Anya might have secretly recognized to be of mixed Dalmascan and Nabradian design, "that you shouldn't be asking these guys that unless you want yourself stripped, skinned, and guillotined."

Balthier nodded slowly, almost impressed. "You may learn something yet."

Lamont shrugged. "Fair enough. We're here."

He'd dreamed of this before, Vaan. He would open his eyes and he wouldn't be in the little room he shared with Reks and their parents anymore. They didn't exist. Archadia didn't exist. Rabanastre didn't exist, and if it did, he had no idea where it was. But where he was...not even magick could have made it any more surreal. It was the night sky, and he was surrounded by flashing stars and dashing blue lights, and there was not an earth below him. There was just...peace.

And then a rat used his stomach as a jumping board and he was back in Lowtown, fumbling for his mother's hand in the dark.

"This is what I came here to see," said Lamont, crouching forward to touch the coarse ground, a translucent navy blue glimmering with Magicite from within. With his free hand he took from his tunic's right pocket a finely crafted gem, glowing almost like Magicite. Not even Balthier and Fran could ignore the curiosity gnawing at them and looked over his shoulder to see the power he held in his little hand.

"What's that?" asked Vaan.

"It's Nethicite," said Lamont, still entranced by the stone. "Manufacted Nethicite. Unlike regular Magicite, Nethicite absorbs magickal energy. This is the fruit of research into the manufacture of Nethicite. All at the hands of the Draklor Laboratory." Standing and hurrying towards the wall, seemingly filled with stars, he touched his glove to another glowing rock. "So this is where they're getting the Magicite."

Balthier was beginning to return to his senses. Turning his head warily, he received a nod from Fran. Damn. How would their escape go today, he wondered? "Errand all attended to, then?"

"Thank you," said Lamont, calling Vaan to the wall with a wave of his hand. "I'll repay you shortly."

Balthier reached the boy before his new friend could, however, and he was not at all pleased. "No," he said, his tone growing sharp, "You'll repay us now. We have too much on our hands to go on holding yours. So where did you hear this fairytale about Nethicite? And where did you get that sample you carry? What do you know about the Draklor Laboratories?" Lamont tried and failed to find an escape, and found himself backed against the same starry cavern. "Tell us: who are you?"

Although erratic at times and immensely childish, Vaan made friends easily and grew protective of them just as fast. Sensing a bad confrontation between the two funny-speaking characters, he approached them. "Balthier, what-"

"You kept us waiting, Balthier!" came a horrible grating sound, capturing all those in the room. At least, he wished he could. Lamont realized fearfully a moment later that it was the voice of a Bangaa, and with just the grin on his face and the twitch of his eyes the boy knew he was a wicked thing.

Inaudibly, Fran sighed. Menacingly, as always, Ba'Gamnan advanced with the ever-present Ba'Gangsaw, crackling and roaring as if alive. Snickering behind him, his two brothers–Gijuk, a light asparagus green with more rings on him than fifty airship glossairs, and the other, Bwagi, a midnight blue, his chest adorned with tattoos matching the grey stripes on his eyes–and sister, Rinok, a pale wisteria with wisps of white behind her ears, were eager to get their fill of revenge.

"And Fran!" cackled Rinok, tapping a finger against her spear's grapple hook-like tip. "The hunt just wouldn't be the same without you! Gotten rid of the Hume brat, I see, and replaced her with two more!" She and Fran had met, once, before the Viera met the sky pirate and had still been selling goods in Rabanastre for the Garif. Rinok had witnessed her great vending skills and asked if she wanted to join their group and bargain off their loot for them, but Fran refused. The Bangaa woman resorted to threats, which were empty to the proud Viera, until Rinok drew her spear and Fran was forced to permanently (and, given the circumstance, minutely) scar her waist with a Nanna tooth necklace.

"Yes...you all slipped away in Nalbina. We missed you!" Ba'Gamnan smiled, and it was the most horrifying thing Fran had ever seen. "First the judge, and now this boy. The whole affair has the smell of money. I may have to wet my beak a little!"

Feigning undaunted courage, as always, Balthier sneered. "Keep your snout in the trough where it belongs. This thinking ill befits you, Ba'Gamnan."

"Balthier!" the Bangaa growled, hungry and hankering for blood and the gold it would reap for him after, and raised his chainsaw to level with the sky pirate's handsome face. "Too long have I gone unpaid... I'll carve my bounty out of that boy!"

The crook was empty even after the rest had gone, leaving Anya to sing praises to the gods that none of the unholy had returned or come after them. She was the only one awake in the whole area. The only difference between the Slaven back in the span and Sir Basch was that the beast snored like a chainsaw and Sir Basch...well, Sir Basch was... Anya paused, stretching her arms back and trying to feel her lap (it went numb about half a minute after the Slaven had slept) to help her think. He was a lot of things, she supposed. Strong, intelligent, always trying to keep the peace. Always apologising, which was absolutely irritating, because he actually thought the assassination of Uncle Raminas was his fault...

Anya gasped and covered her mouth, and then her hands flew to her ears, after which she remembered that she didn't know how to cover her thoughts. She meant Raminas. Just King Raminas. Either way, nobody's death was Sir Basch's fault...nobody important, anyway, because how could anyone so kind be...be...be stirring?

"Sir Basch!"

The former captain groaned and turned to lean on his right, only to slide the swelling on his right forehead against the cloth under him and groaned. He settled, with furrowed eyebrows, for resting on his left side. "Anastacia..."

"No, certainly not!" Anya almost screamed. Basch was too deafened to theorize or understand why that was so, however, and the young sky pirate finally succeeded in waking him.

He opened his eyes, the soft light blinding him, held his hand up and placed it on the odd markings seemingly standing before his face. Basch traced the swirls and points with a finger and wondered curiously why the shapes seemed to distort and back away at his touch.

"Um, Sir Basch..."

It was a minute or so after, when the light had already settled in his vision, that he realized how soft the markings were...and warm, and that the ground below his head was elevated and equally, as the markings, soft and warm.

In less than a second, he was up and apologizing, in the irritating and profuse yet quiet and concise way that only he could apologize and make her want to slap him silly and tell him everything was all right, and was going to be, so stop being so idiotic...Anya thought so, anyway, and wished that she could just stop thinking for once.

"...and what happened?" he finally finished speaking, looking around and holding the bump on his head.

"I...hit your head with my pouch...a little. And you fell, hit the tracks, became unconscious...I'm sorry. I really am. I thought I was swinging my pouch right, you know, with a little swoosh-" she made a swinging motion and the sound that came along with it, hoping it would help him understand, "and then all of a sudden you were on the ground and the corpses were coming in. Oh! And then Balthier returned, on the Slaven, no less, and had it crush all the bones you see around you! We moved you here so that nobody would spot us like sitting ducks. Also, there haven't been any undead since. Balthier and the rest have moved on to the excavation sites, where Ba'Gamnan and his brothers and sister are probably waiting with Penelo... They've always been hunting _Amba_and _Tatah_ down, you know, even before we met. It's Archadia's fault. They put such large bounties on their heads that...oh, do you know that I'm worth a million Gil now? Although that isn't even half the price of Balthier and _Amba_, you could still buy a brand new, top of the line airship with my head..."

Basch nodded continuously as he listened to the young sky pirate talk, and talk, and talk, failing to hear the malevolent laughter of four dangerous siblings passing by. She had never spoken so casually about her trade before. Here was another chance. "Why did you join them, then?" he asked when she finished, framing her head with her hands. "You must have known the dangers of becoming a pirate."

"I joined them because I had no choice," she said, the finality hard in her voice, and Basch knew not to ask any more. "Are you all right now? I'm worried about them."

Having been whipped and flogged and beaten for more than a year and a half, Basch was not at all bothered by the swelling on his forehead and nodded. Gathering their belongings and securing their weapons, he and Anya started for the rest of the group, and hoped it was the headhunter who had become prey to the calls of death this meeting inspired.

"Tell me about Princess Anastacia," said Anya as they began to walk. She justified it by adding, "I gave you information."

Fixing the pouch's handle on his shoulder (for he had taken the liberty of carrying it for the girl who wielded it so dangerously), Basch thought hard. It couldn't be something grand about her, or unknown, because anybody could have researched and found that the vicious Bangaa and his crew had been hunting their troupe down for the longest time, or that the bounty on Balthier's head was Anya's tripled (possibly even more). "She was the most wonderful dancer," said Basch, something he knew the sky pirate must have already been at least vaguely aware of. "If nothing else could be said of her, she was the most skilled her age, and on days when she visited Dalmasca and performed in the promenade of glorious Rabanastre, all the noisy, pushy crowds would stop and watch, and all they would find equally entrancing was the singing of her future sister-in-law her dances accented. When the two princesses finished, they would all be silent first, the audience, as if saddened that the girls had stopped, and then they would begin to clap, slowly, like an growing thunderstorm, until all their adoration and all their cheers enveloped the city. It was the same when Lord Rasler walked with the public, though the crowd he attracted had a larger percentage of females..."

Anya choked, and Basch wondered if she was trying not to laugh or cry. The girl herself didn't know. "It was the same with you, too," she said, looking at him then with an expression of pure joy, he realized, for the very first time. No one had given him such a thing since Nabudis fell. "With you and Vossler. I would always look out my window and see all the women fawning over two Dalmascan captains by the names Azelas and fon Ronsenburg in the streets when your airships arrived in Nabudis." And as a quick afterthought she added, "My house was located near the markets. But I could never spot you or Vossler among all the screaming girls."

Basch felt a grin tug at his lips, remembering the days when he could hear voices in the crowd actually cheering his name and his honor. "I'd always insist that we wear disguises out in the market, but Vossler would refuse, saying it was an absurd idea. And then there came a day when a group of women were so enamored of him, and ignored me for I was in my disguise, that they actually managed to cut pieces of his hair off and tear half his vest apart." Anya was about to laugh when all of a sudden there was a soft rumbling from Basch's side of the stairs, and, alarmed, the girl turned her head to look at the man with wide eyes. He was... chuckling! But upon noticing that he was the only one doing so, he stopped. No! She had to make him do it again. They stared at each other awkwardly for a little while until the young sky pirate began to laugh, and repeated what the former captain had said. The thought of Vossler running around Nabudis with only half a vest was really such an amusing thought, and by this time they were both laughing, genuinely, and it was Anya who saw, for the very first time, just how much a smile could change a man. Recovering from her own fit, she watched his eyes squint and his shoulders shake as his mouth finally turned up for an expression filled with life, and happiness, and hope.

But he stopped again. "It's better, you know," said Anya as they found the excavation landing, looking at him seriously and holding his gaze while she could still muster it. "When you smile. I suppose it would be utterly hedonistic of me, but fitting, as I am a sky pirate, to ask to see it again."

Her gaze fell, and as men usually are, he looked confused. Anya shook her head and left him to follow her curiously as she hurried for the excavation site, where an argument was taking place. "Are you-"

A boy breezed past them, running for his life.

"Lamont?" called Anya, her eyes following him down past the stairway. "What-"

"Basch! Anya!" came Vaan's anxious yell, something Anya was beginning to grow accustomed to. "Run!"

"_Amba_! _Tatah_!" Anya removed Vaan's sudden grip on her wrist and pushed him away, waiting for the two to return safely. Fran and Balthier ran into vision, arms swinging with haste, a whirring, whizzing sound coming right after- "Watch out!"'

Balthier whirled around with his gun in between his hands and parried the Ba'Gangsaw, which Ba'Gamnan tried to dig deeper into the gun. Watching in horror as the chains picked the metal off his precious weapon bit by bit but terrified even more for his life, the Bangaa's bounty pushed back.

"Where are they?" Anya asked Vaan, who paced from the stair landing and back to her as if he had his own personal errand to attend to. "Ba'Gamnan's sister? His brothers?"

"I threw the Stink Bomb at them. Only Ba'Gamnan got away from it," said Vaan, panicking, and finally jumped over the stair railing to return to the lower floor. "Balthier scared Lamont away. I gotta get him!"

The gun flew out of Balthier's grasp. Ba'Gamnan laughed, lowering the chainsaw to his neck. "Trapped like the rat you are!"

"Balthier!" shouted Basch, tossing his sheathed sword to the sky pirate, who caught and unsheathed it just in time to keep his life. The blade's edge got caught in between one of the saw's cutting chains, slowing its whirring till it came to a whining stop.

Fran, who had been busy with her own endeavor, called for help from behind an overturned barrow. The two remaining spectators answered and heaved the cart (although admittedly, it was Basch who did most of the work) back on its wheels. With a nod from the Viera, they pushed it towards their hunter. "Move, _Tatah_!" was a warning Balthier did not need, having already seen, from under the sweat dripping from his lashes, his partner's intentions. Jumping out of the way, he landed painfully on his shoulder, right beside his gun. Ba'Gamnan was only quick enough to turn around and let out a long string of curses as the cart crashed into him, stopping only when he was jammed in between it and the cavern, his arms and his legs stuck under the barrow. Basch was ordered to dump the remaining barrels around the site into it just to be sure.

"Confound you!" Ba'Gamnan hollered, attempting and failing to remove the cart from himself. "I will have my pound of flesh yet, Balthier!"

Snorting in doubt and extremely well-hidden relief, Balthier dismissed him with a airy wave of his hand and returned the sword to Basch. Jerking his head in the direction of the exit, he stretched his arms and sighed. "Much more running with Bangaa at my heels and I'm apt to give up sky pirating altogether..."

They found Vaan waiting outside the Mines, peeking his head out from behind one of the entrance posts. Anya raised her hands, preparing to surprise Vaan with a violent chop to the shoulders, when she saw Lamont walking with a stately step towards a group of Imperials, one of them a Judge. It wasn't Sir Basch's brother, she knew, because this Magister's armor was of a golden color. He must have been the one speaking with the Marquis earlier. Oh, there was the old man now, in fact-ow. Anya glanced up and saw Fran, who had pulled her behind another pillar, keeping her ears perked.

"I see you've been walking without the company of your cortege, Lord Larsa," said the Magister. An Imperial beside him stepped backward to nod his head in respect, revealing a very frightened blonde girl with pigtails and winglike shoulder guards.

"Penelo!" whispered Vaan, and moved to wave his hand at her, but Balthier, the only one beside him, pulled him back with a hard tug at his shoulder. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Those are Imperials, if you've forgotten," said Balthier, giving him a slight glare. "Or do you _like_ being thrown into Nalbina?"

"But...but Penelo! We can't just..."

"Quiet," said Balthier, and with a reinforced look from Fran, Vaan shut his mouth.

"...That was unexpected," Fran heard the Magister utter. The boy had taken Penelo into Halilm Ondore's estate as another guest, and it was done very smoothly. When all the Bhujerbans and Archadians before the mine had disbanded, Vaan and Balthier met with the rest, the former Hume looking very upset.

"What's Penelo doing? And what's the deal with that Lamont?"

"That's no_ Lamont_," said Balthier, finally. "Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. Fourth son to Emperor Gramis...and _brother_ to Vayne."

"What!" Vaan felt his head spin. He was becoming friends with an...Archadian? "That kid?"

"Do not worry," said Fran, remembering all she had heard. Pity she hadn't recognized his colors sooner. "I believe he will treat her well."

Balthier agreed with an obscure grin. "Nobody knows men like Fran does." Anya giggled girlishly at this, only hushing with a hiccup when Basch spoke again.

"Our purposes lead the same way: to Ondore," he said, and as they left Miner's End, Balthier wondered if the man ever caught a break. All he ever seemed to think about was the _Resistance_! To Anya it was as if he had never laughed with her. "We must find means to approach him."

"The Marquis is channeling money to organizations opposing the Empire," replied Balthier, sounding very sure of himself. Basch looked to Anya and wondered if she had known this and chose to keep it from him. Then again, there was that Resistance member she had 'formed' a friendship with, for the sake of information. Had she expected him to put the pieces together so quickly? How could one so young be so well-versed in the art of subterfuge? "We'll start there. Fran?"

She shook her head. "They change their rendezvous points every so often. They never trusted me enough to keep contact."

Balthier looked to his left. "Anya?"

"The only one I knew was Balzac, and I was never aware of his connection to Vossler Azelas," she replied. "He said to me once, on a skyferry back to Rabanastre, that not all the rebels knew each other. I believe he was one of the rare few to be a member of both the Dalmascan and the Bhujerban insurgence."

"Hey," Vaan interjected, and asked what Basch could not release from his mind. "I thought you tried to 'steer clear' of this stuff? Why do you guys invest so much time in learning about it?"

Balthier shrugged. "Knowledge of current events is always a necessity. Blissful ignorance can only get one so far," he answered, though it was a fact he was yet to realize.

"Marquis Ondore announced my execution two years ago," said Basch, not to help them but for the sake of contributing something to whatever plan it was they were going to go through with. They were selfish, these pirates, looking out only for each other, but as long as he kept their interest, he supposed they would aid him. "If news of my survival were to spread, the Marquis may find his position compromised."

"The men he's been funding bear little love for the Empire," added Balthier. "They won't be thrilled to discover that rumors of your death were, in fact, greatly exaggerated. If we were to raise a clamor to that effect, we might just get their attention."

"We won't be able to tell the rebels from the loyalists and the neutrals," said Anya, doubtfully. "Not with so many Archadian troops in the vicinity. How are we going to do that?"

Vaan scoffed, "Nothin' to it! I'll just go around spreading the word. How about this?" The others watched with morbid interest as the boy placed himself in the middle of a fairly large crowd and announced, pointing to himself proudly, "I'm Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca!"

Anya tried not to burst into laughter for the sake of...credibility. Fran turned her head away as well, though she had an easier time hiding her amusement. Vaan returned to them with a hopeful look. "Well? What do you think?"

Smirking, Balthier nodded. "That certainly qualifies as a clamor. All right, Vaan, get to it. For the girl's sake, eh? Oh, and the more people around to witness your little performance, the better. If we're going to reach the Marquis, it's up to you. We'll be waiting here, if you need us."

Determined to please the sky pirates, Vaan bounded for the rest of the sky city, and the rest could hear gasps and gossip beginning to rise in the air as his declarations of Basch's preservation echoed all throughout. "Don't believe Ondore's lies!" the boy would insist, shaking innocent bystanders by the shoulders. "_I'm_ Captain Basch!" And he sounded like he believed every word of it.

"Are you sure he'll be safe running around like that?" asked Anya, turning to the leader of their trio. "If that Magister happens to walk by and he's shouting all those things, Vaan might actually _be_stripped, skinned, and guillotined." Basch pretended to watch the people passing by as he listened to them converse. Ivalice was so different now. Where honor once reigned, deception now commanded...he was determined to change that.

There was barely a trace of worry on Balthier's face, though Basch thought he found a small speck of it when he looked again. "Let's hope Vaan is smart enough to know when and where to make his declarations, hmm?"

Fran gave no input, and, unaware of the silence she preferred when concentrating, Basch did not change his view on the Viera, who left the group wordlessly and set off in the direction Vaan left for. He looked down to Anya, thinking to ask her what was going on, and started to wonder if, after some period of time, sky pirates developed telepathy, for the girl said to him, "Vaan. She'll come back to us when she has found him," but it was impossible, of course. True to her fellow pirate's word, Fran returned ten minutes later, stopping at the farthest they could see her before disappearing again.

Basch felt somewhat embarrassed realizing that he was the only confused one in the group. Balthier glanced at Anya as if they had a secret they so enjoyed keeping from him. "Shall we?"

It was as if they expected him to know what was so amusing, he thought, as Anya passed the knowing smile to him. As Balthier led them to Faram knew where, the real fon Ronsenburg blinked. Hmm. Telepathy.

What was going to happen to him? Would he ever see Penelo again? Was he going to die today? He'd thought the same thing in the dungeons, but he was obviously still breathing, so... "I'll get out of this, you know," said Vaan to his captor, a black Bangaa with yellow-tipped ears who was obviously very upset with him, "I've been pretty good at that stuff so far. Just you wait."

"If I were you," replied the Bangaa, who was really just tired of waiting for freedom from the Empire. There needed to be less patroling and more action. "I wouldn't talk so much."

Never having been to the Cloudborne, Vaan did not recognize the place, but he did recognize that there were pretty waitresses and drunks and a notice board just like the one in Tomaj's place, the Sandsea. They were in a tavern...maybe Balthier and the others would be able to find him! But the Bangaa didn't lead him to a seat in the bar, or anywhere he would be seen. There was a door near the very end of the tavern that he wouldn't even have seen if he wasn't being brought there, which he was, and now Vaan was beginning to fear for his life.

The Bangaa shoved him down the stairs and into the back room. The only source of light there was a small lamp on the table that sat in its center, but only one person sat on the chair beside it. Vaan guessed it was probably their leader, since he had this pretty girl leaning on his shoulder. The rest of the people in the room, Bangaa, Seeq, Hume, Moogles, and probably some other races he didn't know, stood against the walls, staring at him intently from the dark. He shivered. That Vossler guy was right; their eyes did watch, unblinking. "This is the one, Havharo. Says he's Captain Basch, he does."

The man at the head of the table, crossing his arms, scoffed. "He would sooner pass for the King!"

The Bangaa who captured Vaan grumbled in disappointment. "I knew he weren't no Captain! That was a mean trick to be playin'!"

Vaan shook his head and shrugged, his shoulders easing a little. The Bangaa seemed a lot less threatening than Ba'Gamnan. Maybe he wasn't going to die yet.

"If at trickery it ended, it would end well enough. But why this boy, and why Captain Ronsenburg? An explanation is due, and I will hear it. The Empire's hounds grow passing bold indeed," said Havharo, and Vaan had no idea what it meant. Except that they didn't like the Empire, so there was a plus.

The base's newcomers, however, understood it perfectly, and their leading man felt it his duty to brazenly enter the conversation unannounced. (Behind him, the girl not much older than Vaan waved at him as he sighed in relief.) And he said, in a condescending and amused tone, "A shame if they learnt the Marquis trafficked with the likes of you." The Bangaa turned in surprise and glared at him dangerously, but Balthier continued. At least this one didn't have a chainsaw. "Agents masquerading as guides, a hideout at the back of a tavern...not exactly earning high marks for originality, are we?"

"Now you've done it!" the Bangaa growled, but his own leader saw the pirate's companion and called for him to halt. Like a legend, myth, or a farfetched rumor come to life, Basch stepped boldly into the light. The room erupted with murmurs. Havharo recognized his face from many years before and nodded in acceptance.

"So Basch fon Ronsenburg does yet live."

**XIIXIIXII**

"We're going to meet with the Marquis of Bhujerba?" Anya repeated, toying with her dagger as they sat along the bricks of the intersection outside the Ondore estate, waiting to be called upon. "Whose idea was _that_?"

"Is there a problem?" asked Balthier, expectantly.

"No," she replied, but she didn't meet his eyes. She was foolish enough to have reacted so oddly at seeing the man who fixed their appointment with him, one of the Marquis's Rev guards, whom she did not recognize at all, of course. It would not happen again. "I was just wondering."

"Oh. Well, nothing wrong with a little wondering, then."

Vaan glanced back and forth between the two sky pirates. Was he missing something? He felt like he was missing something. "I just wish they'd hurry up. Who knows what's happened to Penelo? And it's already been, what, two hours?"

"Half that, I'd say. When the insurgents found you, it was already late afternoon." Finding an elsewhere to fixate the tension on, Anya grinned at him and nudged his side. It was also a little bit of revenge for the Mines. "What's wrong, Vaan? Worried about your lady love?"

"She's just my friend, didn't I already tell you?" he said, scooting away from the girl. Vaan grumbled to himself. "Don't even know why I bother..."

Fran, looking up from her conversation with Balthier (Basch was alone in a corner, trying to fix his sheathe), spotted a _Parijanah_ approaching them. "It's time," she said, and they entered the Ondore estate.

It was not Balthier's first time in the estate. He had seen its large crystalline petals before, its blooming gardens (the Marquis had a distinct liking for the blue and the yellow blossoms, in particular), and its lonely halls. The velvet curtains he had definitely seen before, and the almost mirrorlike checkered floor, in all its spotlessness, he had already had the pleasure of gazing into. The ambiance had deteriorated greatly, however. Whereas it had still a somewhat hopeful air about it before, on this night the estate was depressing, and empty, and dark, and neither a million of the guards in the estate nor its delicate lily-shaped lamps, he knew, would brighten it or fill the void that had enveloped the grand mansion. He would have felt guilt, but it wasn't his to feel.

The Marquis Ondore waited for them in his office, but the sight of his old and former friend still surprised him.

"Sir Basch fon Ronsenburg," he managed to say without sounding the least bit overcome with emotion, "It was not so very long ago that I announced your execution."

"And that is the only reason I draw breath," the man replied, almost sounding angry, but it was so uncharacteristic of him that it was though it wasn't a snap, the Marquis still found it biting. He paused and glanced over to the entourage of the traitor by his announcement. A Viera's sharp gaze caught his own; the woman was as beautiful, as all of her race were known to be, and acted just as coldly. Standing idly to her right, a lightly tanned, red-haired girl kept her eyes on the floor, staring intently at her reflection against the tiles, and a poor lad–he knew this by the way he stood and looked around his office in unabashed awe–sighed behind her. And directly behind Basch, almost hidden from his sight, stood a younger man, folding his cuffs, the most smug expression plastered on his Archadian– though he would deny it– face. Halim reeled.

"So you are the sword he's strung above my head," he continued, seeing his former friend's questioning glance, and pretended not to have noticed the Archadian. "Vayne has not left a thing to chance. And...?" What did they want?

"A leader of the Resistance has fallen into Imperial hands," he answered, pretending, too, not to have noticed the recognition that had passed Halim's face at the sight of one of his companions. "A woman by the name of Amalia. I would rescue her, but I need your help."

"This Resistance leader–this Amalia–she must be very important."

Basch simply held his right fist over his left chest and bowed his head. The Marquis barely even acknowledged it, standing up with his cane and leaning on it every so often as he walked away from his desk. Anya wanted to cover her ears from the sound it made; _knock-knock-knock _against the floor. "You understand I've my position to consider..."

The Archadian rolled his eyes and tilted his head closer to Fran's. "Very dodgy, these insurgents."

_Knock-knock..._

Placing a hand on her hip and tossing her hair back, his partner nodded. "We would be quite the liabilities."

_Knock.._. It was the sound of waiting...waiting...waiting...and then dying. It was the sound of the last life.

"All this talk of insurgents and Empires already make us liabilities," said Balthier, exasperatedly. "Really, they can't just-"

"Would you let us see Larsa?" asked Vaan, finished with ogling the curtains. Catching the Marquis' eye, he lowered his tone of voice, actually aware of the nobleman's presence. "...He's got my friend with him."

The Marquis almost pitied the boy, clearly a Lowtown Dalmascan who'd gotten himself roped into traveling with a dead man, a wanted man, and what seemed to be his pirate crew. "I'm afraid you're too late," he replied, softening his expression and placing his hands on his cane. "Lord Larsa's cortege has already rejoined the Imperial Detachment. I am told they will depart for Rabanastre upon the arrival of the fleet this eventide." He turned to speak with one of his Rev guards.

Knowing that was the end of that conversation, Vaan sighed and was tempted to take a seat on the floor beside Anya, shaking weirdly as she fiddled with a loose thread in her singlet, but thought the Marquis guy probably wouldn't like that very much and decided against it. The conversation between Ondore and his guard took quite a bit, at least for the guests who were absolutely bored out of their minds, and Balthier and Vaan, grumbling (quietly, for the pirate), wondered in both disgust and amazement how Basch managed to stand in that spot of his without wishing he would turn to dust instead of having to stay there for another long minute.

Minutes later and Vaan had already begun scratching his face and thrashing his arms about, walking circles around the sky pirates and giving them impatient looks. Balthier, who had managed to stay calm this far for the sake of his reputation, would not have any of it.

"What are we waiting for!" Vaan finally snapped.

"For you to calm down," Balthier snapped back, pushing his arms down and shooting him another look.

"Captain Ronsenburg," began the Marquis Ondore, amused by the Archadian's predicament. He had finally finished arranging whatever it was he had been discussing with his guard. "Surely the exigencies of position are not lost on you. Why indeed...you should find the enemy's chains an_ easy_ burden to bear."

Basch's eyes widened, and the understanding between them was only deepened with the Marquis's emboldening smirk. The former captain stepped forward, taking his sword by the hilt. Alarmed, Fran and Balthier glanced at each other.

"Wait!" The much-celebrated sky pirate attempted to keep his freedom, but the honorable traitor shook his head apologetically.

"Sorry. Can't be helped." He drew his sword.

The Marquis feigned surprise, falling back. "Summon the Guard!"

Anya perfunctorily helped Balthier drag her to her feet. Fran tilted her head slightly. Vaan shook his head as at least ten Parijanah flooded into the room, grabbing them all by the wrists. "What are you doing!" he cried, "Let me go!"

Tapping his cane's head against his hands triumphantly, the Marquis nodded. "They're to be taken to Judge Ghis!"

He watched each of them, one by one, as they were forced out of his office. Basch fon Ronsenburg was exceedingly pleased with himself. The poor churl with him had no idea what was going on, the Viera seemed spiritlessly resigned to her fate, and the Archadian looked as if his final intention was to fire lasers from his eyes through the captain's back. The last, the young girl, was the only one who met his eyes as she exited. Her glare blazed fiercely at him.

And Halim Ondore would have been greatly amused, had he not– just as she disappeared– recognized the hatred in her eyes.

* * *

Sorry it's not longer. Been pretty busy these days. The song 'Come Closer' by Iklan (yes, the song that you hear in that one toothpaste commercial) kept me going for this one. Haha, it's been added to my list of songs-that-inspire-me-to-write-TGMP. I should post that list up somewhere here someday! =D If I remember to. Haha!

I SWEAR I had something specific to explain, but I can't remember it right now, so...I'll post it in the next chapter if I remember.

**Yiazmat: I'm so glad you understood my explanation! I thought it was too dragging and crazy, so...yeah. Nono! :)) I haven't actually read any other FFXII fics that aren't Judge Magister (Zargabaath and the others who aren't usually dwelled on) or Vaan/Penelo centric, so I'll be taking your word for it and GASP. How can anybody forget Nono and his family? Although they would've been so much more awesome had they not squeaked and squeaked and squeaked every time they appeared on a movie scene (I think it was only one though, haha...the scene where Balthier asks how the Strahl was doing and they were leaving Rabanastre). Thanks for reviewing!**

If anything needs explaining to you, readers, PM me! Or put it in a review. No need to be scared, I'll answer anything as long as it isn't spoilerific. Spoilerificity (word, word, word...) depends with each question (and my answer), so you won't know if your question is spoilerific till you ask. :)

Heheheh, constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated as always! **Or if you don't have criticism or advice for me, at least make yourself known through other than an alert or a favorite (though those I am still very thankful for, of course!). :) Just tell me which parts of the chapter you like the most. I do want to give you readers what you want, as long as it's within my power to give here.**

Thanks again for reading the story! I really hope you enjoyed reading it!


	8. Chapter 7

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

Senior year has let up on some of its glory, but it's still awesome and fun. Except I have a fever right now, so I don't really have anything else to say.

Hope you enjoy reading the chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7**

They were brought to the fleet immediately, but the wait lasted until the morning, when they were transferred to the Dreadnought Leviathan. It was the 8th Fleet's flagship, larger than the Strahl by at least three hundred times. This posed no problem to Fran, whose only concern, pirate-wise, was escape, and who enjoyed the wind on her face briefly during the transfer, but she wasn't quite so sure about the rest. Vaan had been looking at her, if not at Balthier or at Anya, as if he expected them to grow steel wings from their backs on a whim, cut through the flagship's hull, and fly him and Basch home to Rabanastre effortlessly. Balthier was less than happy to be bound again, Anya had kept her head in between her knees for the entire duration of the wait and after the transfer, and nothing could be said about Basch, whose apologies of honor, duty and the like she had already known of but still chose not to understand.

"I don't like this," Vaan whispered to Anya, who was busy trying to keep her manacles from returning the slight pain she still felt from being lashed out at by the Garamsythe's Firemane. The Imperials were leading them up a few floors in an elevator; he preferred the noise and the smell of the working machines, the dank of downstairs, where there was actually a chance of escape. Somehow. "I really don't."

"And you think I do?" she replied, keeping her eyes on the electric blue and silver lining the ceiling. The elevator's whirring made it impossible for their guards to hear them. "I would grow steel wings and slice the hulls off this awful place and escape, if I could. But my bones aren't made of steel, are they?"

"Obvious--"

"Move!" yelled the Imperials behind the two, shoving them out into the Leviathan's main floor. Empty and silent, except for the occasional inhuman beeping and whooshing of the doors, it was a boring place, with walls and ceilings made of horizontally striped dark grays and off whites, varying only in width, a bit of shade and how far the pillars came out from the wall, almost as if to warn prisoners of the stranglehold the great Archadian Empire now had on them. The floors were just as dull, grated, even, with only bright blue markers blinking every now and then to guide them. All the halls ran this way, except for a few bright intersections they passed with brown marble tiles and dark cyan sides, and Vaan almost swore that he saw the Nethicite Larsa had in Bhujerba tossed aside on one of them.

Finally, the Imperials slowed their pace after a long and fast walk around the main floor (Balthier thought they were either hesitating to start with a tour, leading them around in circles to make sure they didn't know how to escape, or they were just lost themselves, the damn sods) and the five prisoners found themselves standing behind translucent black-sheeted sliding doors.

"The prisoners, my lord!" announced the man holding Fran as the doors parted and, as was the habit of his ilk, shoved her in. The Viera scanned the room. It was the cockpit. Rectangular windows surrounded the room– above. Too high, unless one of them could toss Anya high enough and cause her to break it while letting her keep her life in the process. A small chandelier hung over the pilot's head; how quaint. Almost the entire wall surrounding the large airship's room-wide control panel was composed of windows, but how to get there would be the problem, and it _would_ be quite a problem if the guards were all watching them. And...the Judge with the golden armor. He certainly _bettered_ the situation.

A gasp from the center of the room attracted the attention of all those present, and as its owner approached them, Basch tried-- "Majesty--"

She slapped his left cheek hard in reply. "After what you've done!" spat the woman who called herself Amalia, and the venom was so thick in her voice that even those she did not address felt its sting. "How dare you! You're supposed to be _dead_."

Basch said nothing. But he wondered, for a moment, how many times he would have to apologize before he would earn the forgiveness of all of his countrymen for failing them...until he realized it was all for naught.

"Come now, come now," laughed the Magister behind Amalia, chuckling slightly at the boy beside the former Captain and the young woman beside him, the two either looking down or closing their eyes in fear. Ahh. He hadn't had a taste of such fear since he was an Imperial! "Have you forgotten your manners? This is hardly the courtesy due..." he turned to the rest of the prisoners, the fools who'd sided themselves with the man who would truly be dead in a matter of days, knowing what he thought they all did not. He was wrong. "...the late Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca."

Vaan blinked, his head popping forward as he lost his balance. "_Princess?_"

Balthier and Fran instinctively looked to Anya, whose head was still lowered as she struggled to keep herself standing. The pirate will to live on and the dead thought of just rotting then and there were at war within the girl, but no one could have known it.

"To be sure," the Magister continued, placing himself beside Princess Ashelia and looking at her to prove his point and rub salt into her wounded pride, "she bears no proof of her former station. No different than any mean member of the Insurgence."

Still glaring at Basch without turning her head, she corrected him, unafraid. "The Resistance."

"His Excellency the Consul asks the Ministry of the Disthroned Royal Family in restoring peace to Dalmasca," he said, making no effort to hide the mockery he made of her title. "Those who foster instability and unrest, who claim Royal Blood without proof…they shall meet their fate at the gallows. There are no exceptions."

"I will not play puppet to Vayne!" said Ashelia fearlessly, facing the Judge now.

He shrugged. "Then you are as good as dead. As your helpless husband, and his deranged sister, and your gullible father--"

"Don't you dare speak of my family," she said slowly, consciously trying not to explode. This man, especially because he was heartless, had limits to the amusement he needed, but not to his cruelty.

"Tsk, tsk, claiming royal blood?" only the Magister laughed, shaking his index finger as if the princess were a child. "Remember..."

Basch paid no attention to the Judge and faced Ashelia urgently. "King Raminas entrusted me with a task," he said, ignoring the anger she bore into his eyes. "Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: The Dusk Shard. It will warrant the quality of your blood. Now...only I know where to find it." This man, though full of good in his heart, was wrong, too.

"Wait." Ashelia held her hand up in genuine confusion. "You took my father's life! Why spare mine now?" And then she gasped, believing she had discovered his true intentions. He had done it to her father, after all, and to himself... "You would have me live in shame!"

"If that is your duty, yes," he answered nonetheless.

Vaan groaned and stepped forward. No one had gotten angry with him about it so far, so he spoke his thoughts freely. "Stop being so stubborn!" he said, looking into Ashelia's eyes dauntlessly. "Keep on like this and you're gonna get us all killed."

Ashelia did not even pause to weigh the words of a boy almost unknown to her before she snapped at him, too. "Don't interrupt!"

Anya curled her lip as her eyebrows furrowed and gave her face a terrible look. "Don't talk to Vaan that way!"

Ashelia scoffed, livid. The thief, giving her orders? "I will talk however I--"

"What...?" Orange beams of light broke out from the spaces between Vaan's fingers. He opened his palms to reveal the stone he had stolen from Castle Rabanastre nights before, warm again and pulsating with power.

"Vaan. That stone..." Basch watched helplessly as the Archadians set their eyes on the shard.

"I-I-It was in the palace treasure," he explained, unsure if he should let go or grasp it tightly to stop its glowing. At any rate, it was too late.

"You were holding it with you this _whole_ time, Vaan?" Anya gasped.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" he replied, panicking.

The Magister laughed again, slightly tossing his head back. "Splendid!" he cried, reveling in his luck. "You've brought the Stone with you! This spares us a great deal of trouble."

"Don't give it to him!" Ashelia ordered, but an Imperial held her back; she was powerless. It had finally dawned on her. By a hairline, she'd missed her chance for freedom. For her country's freedom. Just as she'd missed the chance to tell Rasler how much she loved him, and the chance to convince her sister not to take her life. Because she lacked power.

Vaan hesitated, taking a step back. "I..." He clutched the stone in his hand and glanced to the sky pirates, whose approval he so desired. Balthier shrugged and grunted grudgingly; Anya was covering her face with her hands, but Fran nodded. Frowning, he held the Stone out to the Magister. "You have to promise: no executions."

"A Judge's duty is to the law," he replied, but only after he had taken the Magicite from the boy. He ignored Ashelia's struggling and dismissed them carelessly, now that he had the Stone. "Take them away. Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately."

The princess hung her head helplessly. The street rat fought against his guard, trying to yell out to the Judge who had taken his prize, but an Imperial grabbed him by the hair and forced him around. Fran willingly walked out, trying not to feel the headache creeping up from drawing a blank. Escape plan status: nonexistent. The sound of her companion's shuffling was not any help at all, she thought when they walked through a hallway dead with only gray. Humes were too noisy for their own good.

"So you were carrying it all along," said Basch to Vaan, though he sounded as if he were talking to himself. "The Fates jest."

Vaan sighed. It was his fault _again_.

Balthier was past blaming Vaan at this point. He was tired, and hungry, the last thing he had taken in being bread with Nono's hot chocolate (which was _hardly_ a meal), and he was in dire need of a bath. All the Archadians hanging around the place made him feel filthy. "Tell these fates of yours to leave us out," he said to the captain, more sour-faced than he had ever shown anyone outside his crew. Here was no place to act like the famed, always composed pirate he was known for; it would get him killed, for sure. That and he was angry and irritated with Basch's choice, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

"Keep quiet!" said a foot soldier, knocking a lance against the ground. No one really paid any attention to him.

Basch followed the pirate's gaze and saw the girl trudging along beside Vaan and the tall woman walking ahead of them. He was worried about them; his 'daughter' and his...lover? Was the Viera capable of such intimacy? In retrospect, she would always soften her tone and almost smile when speaking with Balthier and Anya. Perhaps she was. Apologetically, as always, though he tried not to sound too sorry (he remembered that Anya had found it irritating and wondered if this man would, too; why did he even care?), "There was nothing else that I could do. You know that."

"Oh, I understand," Balthier drawled, not hesitating to roll his eyes at the older man. "Honor, duty, and all that. Hmph. I still can't believe that was a princess. Were you going to mention it any time soon, Anya?" he called out to the girl.

She turned and walked backward to face him, giving him a look of utter disbelief. It wasn't her fault they weren't exactly winning this game against the Archadians! She wasn't too happy with their capture either, especially because Sir Basch had brought it all down on them, but she wasn't about to bear the brunt of his irritation. "What did you expect me to mention? I'm not supposed to--_I_don't know anything about _her_!"

Basch glanced down to Balthier. What was he getting at? He wasn't as slow as Vaan; he knew the girl had to know something, and along with that came the need to know what it was. As always. The pirate grumbled, still. "If you just--"

"I said keep quiet!" the Imperial repeated, exasperated now, and lifted his lance. But Balthier was not one to be struck so easily and grabbed the weapon as the amateur stumbled forward; Basch finished it with a knock of his manacles against the soldier's helmet. Before them, another Archadian received a sharp heel to his spine and fell; recovering from the force of her own kick, Fran shook her head at Anya, who incited Vaan to follow her example and examine the unconscious men's persons. Already she had found a small dagger from one's waist to her liking (and her pouch, of course, which the poor man had been tasked to carry around for the captives' later interrogation), and Vaan rather fancied the pocket watch another had underneath his mail. Balthier looked around for any more men standing in his freedom's way, but found the third Imperial hitting the last over the head and removing his helmet.

"Vossler," he was not glad to hear Anya mention, especially after the man had given her a cocky smirk. Only he was allowed to give cocky smirks around here. Around anywhere, for that matter. Balthier moved forward with the lance in his hands, but the former captain blocked his way and approached 'Vossler', whoever that was and however they knew him, himself.

"The Marquis has been busy," Basch remarked.

"Not lightly did I beg his aid. Listen, it has been a full two years. I alone have kept Her Majesty safely hidden," Vossler replied, stressing 'I' and 'alone' as he unlocked Basch's cuffs, "I doubted friend and for alike. I could trust nobody."

Balthier turned away at that moment, deciding he wouldn't listen to any more of their self-righteous prattle. He had to find a way to unlock their own manacles, or he would have to owe some form of gratitude to the insurgent.

"Look what I've found!" Anya announced cheerily, holding a hair grip in her free hands. Fran had already been freed as well. Balthier grinned, deciding to forget the fight that had almost erupted between them. "Now hurry," she said quietly, "before my wig is blown away."

**XIIXIIXII**

"Where are they holding your...friend?" Anya asked Vossler, pointedly circumspect, after he and Basch had finished speaking. Balthier tried to ignore the urge to sock the insurgent as he gave Anya an expression filled with unbridled condescension. Why was she even talking to the brute?

"You will address her as the Princess. Do you think you're actually coming with us, pirate?"

"Don't think you're leaving here without us," Balthier interjected. "Tell me where they hold the Pandaemonia."

"I will not take orders from a pirate," said Vossler, approaching the precocious man. "You will be left here to--"

"No," Basch intervened, glancing back and forth between Vossler and all his other companions. "They've helped me this far, Vossler. If I owe them something, I owe them their freedom."

Vossler looked disgusted. He_ was_ disgusted. "You think they deserve freedom?"

And Basch was resolute. "They deserve nothing less."

They stared at each other for a minute, each waiting for the other to break and acquiesce to his wishes. Balthier was about to comment on how ridiculous they were, how they were wasting time, and how he and the others could escape without the insurgent's help if he would just please give them a key card to the elevator, and _yes_ he'd said please, when Vossler grumbled his assent. Nobody noticed that he had done it after giving Fran a small grimace. "Fine. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do," said Basch, following his old friend out of the empty corridor without another glance to the others. He couldn't help being surprised at himself. A few days ago, he wouldn't have had second thoughts about leaving pirates to rot in Archadian clutches. But then he supposed that of all people, he should have known how his world could change in a matter of small moments.

"Yeah, and we've still got to find Penelo!" Vaan exclaimed determinedly, rubbing his cold wrists. No one returned his invitation for a high five, as the three sky pirates were too busy talking amongst each other and catching up with the two older Dalmascans.

"Twice this week we've been caught by Archadians," Balthier lightly noted out loud, holding the lance he had kept behind him stiffly. His gun was safely back in its holster. "Am I getting... rusty?"

Having forgotten about their almost-fight as well, at least for the time being, Anya laughed and nudged him with her free elbow. Her other hand was occupied with tossing her new dagger up by its tip and catching it much the same way. "Now now, _Tatah_. You've only been in the business for six years!"

"Yes, and I was rather serious when I gave that Bangaa remark. I'm afraid– will you stop that before you actually poke someone's eye out?" he snapped at Anya, who promptly caught the dagger in the air by its hilt and shoved it into her pocket, "I'm afraid my illustrious exploits and astonishingly good looks have finally become a disadvantage to us."

Fran gave an amused snort, but somehow, it was still done regally. Anya would never understand how they did that, the Viera. "Self-flattery gets one nowhere."

Balthier shrugged. They were walking past Basch and Vossler, now, who were too deeply involved in their own thoughts to notice them. "It certainly makes me feel better," he said, and turned around, still disdainfully. "Waiting for the Archadians to catch you again, hmm, Vaan?"

The boy had stopped right before one of the blue markers on the floor's otherwise uninteresting octagonal pattern, staring into the lights, glowing and dimming, glowing and dimming... "Oh yeah," he jumped from his spot in surprise and looked back at Balthier. Catching up with him and Fran, he made a sheepish yet somehow proud look, as if he didn't really want to apologize. He didn't want to be like Basch, no matter how honorable or kind the man was. "Sorry, I thought there was this thing around the light," he finished anyway when he saw Fran. Anya rolled her eyes as she dropped her pouch quietly and exchanged places with Vaan. Unseen by Balthier, she slipped away to stand where Vaan was looking down at the marker curiously. There was something odd about the floor; like there was an unevenness about the marker, or like it was moving and swishing about in water.

"Anya," called Balthier, a little exasperated. _Why_ was he playing nanny again?

"Coming," she called back, but as she moved to fall into step with Fran, a humming sound startled all those present and she was pulled back by the sides of her throat roughly. "Ow!" she whined, prying the metal fingers from her neck. Anya turned around and glared at Vossler. "What is your problem?"

Vossler pointed to something behind her, and she turned again. Thick red laser beams held strong in a simple but deadly pattern of X's, humming from the base of the floor to the tip of the ceiling, separating her, Basch, and Vossler from Fran, Balthier, and Vaan.

"Careful," said Fran cautiously.

Balthier frowned and approached the beams, the lighter tips of his hair almost frizzing with red. "Damn security system..."

"What's wrong?" asked Vaan, standing beside Balthier. He lifted a finger curiously. "What_ is_ this--"

"Don't touch it, you...!" Vossler hissed. Vaan stepped back in shock, and the man almost felt sorry to have yelled at him. Almost. "Break one of those beams and an alarm will sound, summoning the guard," he explained.

"Yes, and we don't want that happening again," said Balthier, pointedly looking at Basch, but he was ignored. "How long does it take before these things go down?"

"We have no time to wait," replied Vossler, glancing at the other route in the fork. "You will go this way, and we will take the left path."

Balthier did not like the idea of leaving Anya with two grown men; two grown men who were not known to be particularly fond of pirates, no matter how trustworthy the blond one had seemed so far. Fran stared long and hard at Vossler, sizing the man up conspicuously. Anya placed her hand on the wall dividing the two paths they would take. "I'll be all right. We'll see each other again, and soon," she said, motioning for them to go on. A little nervous, she looked back at Basch. "Won't we?"

All eyes fell on Basch. He bowed his head slowly to Balthier the way he had done to the Marquis in Bhujerba. "You have my word."

"We'd rather have her," muttered Balthier, but shook his head and left.

Fran took over from there. "Anya."

"Yes?"

"These Archadians are sentient, and civilized, no matter how any other being sees them. You already know this. Keep steady until we return," she said, seriously, "And dance, if you cannot."

"All right, _Amba_."

"Soon, Anya. And Rabanastre, if not soon enough."

With a nod from both ends, they set off. Vossler led the group heading to the left, and Anya decided, with her neck still sore, that he was not a pleasant man. She should have known it even before, in the Lowtown hideout, but she'd tried not to judge him too harshly then, since, though he had no place in her heart, he had been Anastacia's first...her first...it didn't matter now. The final death of King Raminas had changed all the Dalmascans and the Nabradians (if there were any of them truly left). It just so happened that Vossler Azelas had changed into an ass; a very mean ass. He was not very pleasant, she concluded again, even to Basch, who walked before her and behind Vossler, perhaps hoping to prevent any more confrontations between them

Maybe not, as he slowed his pace to allow her to catch up with him. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking not directly at her but at her neck. "Vossler can be rough at times..."

"Yes, when he chooses to be," she replied, wishing she could glare holes through the back of the man's head. Admittedly, she was still bitter. How would Anastacia have felt about this, being reunited with her old acquaintances only to have them treat her like dirt? When she thought about it, of course, she realized she wasn't Anastacia. Anya was a pirate, and one who knew that had she been the Nabradian princess, she probably would have thought her companions now dirt, too. Pirates. Ha! Anastacia could never have stood them. "I understand why he hates me, though," she added as an afterthought. "Not that it gives him any right to be an ass to me or anyone else."

Basch inwardly cringed at her language, but did not comment on it. "He does not hate you."

Anya snorted and was embarrassed to find that she sounded absolutely boorish. Giving Sir Basch an incredulous look to pretend not to care, she said, "Did someone cast Blind on you, Sir Basch? Or Confuse? Even Vaan knows the man hates us. You don't have to deny it; I'm not hurt._ Tatah_ and _Amba_ aren't, either, and they will affirm this when we see them again. It's just a fact we all have to live with. Pirates and insurgents can never get along well together."

Basch was taken aback at this. He had thought her the timid one, and while he had, in a matter of only days, found that she was less than the innocent young woman he once saw her as, it still surprised him that she could act as if she'd seen all the horrors in the world, as if they were all nothing to her in the face of having that man, Balthier, and that Viera, Fran, with her. A family. Was that what she had? Or lunacy? Whatever it was, he was almost envious that she could feel so safe around them; to know that whatever happened, they would find a way out of it and find each other again. Even if it wasn't always true.

"Sir Basch?" he heard her voice call. She waved a hand over her face. Inwardly, Anya groaned. Why did she have to act like such a know-it-all? Oh, just wonderful. He probably thought she was a precocious little nitwit who didn't know when to keep her mouth shut, and that she should. When had she started acting so bold around him, anyway?

"Yes," he replied, watching her hand drop and continuing to walk forward. Vossler was still ignoring them both, hard on the lookout for any Archadians. "Well, you and I haven't tried to murder each other yet, have we?"

Anya glanced up to look at his face and saw a friendly smile on his lips. She remembered now why she had been so timid in front of him before. Suddenly unable to control the contortions of her face, she found herself smiling back and nodding. "I guess not."

"Shh!" Vossler interrupted, paying attention to them again. His back was against the wall, and he was motioning for them to follow his example. Basch went to stand beside him and beckoned to Anya, who came over in a crouch.

"What is it?" she asked, looking to Vossler's left. A door! A wide sliding door, that was, that almost blended in with the wall, but not quite. It opened with a whoosh and out was ushered a dog whose brown fur from its muzzle to its chest reminded Anya of her–rather, of a loving governess from long ago, who might not even have existed. With black hair all over the rest of itself, the dog perked its ears up and began walking east–their direction– as the door closed.

Moving forward, the dog looked to its left and right. Vossler warily turned to Basch, who nodded. Anya tilted her head forward and tried to enter the silent conversation, but the two seemed bent on keeping her out of it. She sighed mentally.

At least, she thought she did.

Basch turned his head to her with wide eyes. Vossler rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with steel fingers. Anya inhaled sharply. Was this how blundering Vaan felt?

The dog turned its head to Anya in surprise too, at first, before its tail wagged down, its upper lip began quivering and it was snarling, and then it was facing the sky pirate in a position ready to leap, its red eyes angry, and then it was leaping--

Vossler stepped forward and struck the dog down with the side of his lance.

Lying on its side, the dog whimpered. Anya crouched forward, holding her hand out to it. "Poor thing," she whispered, remembering a royal dalmatian she might have seen before, who died with a woman who might have been the beautiful Nabradian queen. "You're just–ow!" Anya withdrew her hand and jumped back. The dog had reached its snout out to bite her fingers! Quicker again than Basch, Vossler struck its head. It fell limp to the side.

"Are you all right?" asked Basch, almost placing a hand on her shoulder.

Breathing heavily, Anya nodded and glanced at Vossler with a slightly open mouth. She was contemplating on thanking him while Basch pulled the dog to lie by the wall, where it was less likely to be seen.

"An Imperial Mastiff," said Vossler before Anya could say anything. "This isn't a mere house pet. Try to act more professional, pirate."

All feelings of gratitude disappeared. "My name is Anya," said the pirate scornfully, straightening herself and cracking her knuckles. "How would you feel if I simply called you insurgent?"

"It wouldn't matter in the least, actually," replied Vossler, unaffected, and continued in his fast pace, slowing only when the door was out of sight.

Anya squeezed her eyes shut and held her arms and hands forward in a position meant to strangle, as the skeleton had to Vaan in the Lhusu mines, except she imagined the man's neck in between her fingers. Concentrating hard, as if enough imagining would actually allow her to get her hands on the insurgent, she shook her hands viciously and strangled the air. There had to be a way to redeem herself; to embarrass Vossler instead. Maybe she could catch the attention of an Imperial or two without his knowledge, lead them to attack the man stealthily, and _then_ save him once he was caught off guard and screaming like an Alraune! ...Wait, that wouldn't work. Alraune didn't scream. Ugh... He was so condescending, so infuriating!

A set of short, quick breaths distracted Anya from her air-strangling; to her right, Basch's shoulders shook. Until he noticed that she had seen him, which was when he put his palm over his mouth and coughed stiffly, ignoring the odd looks he received from his two companions.

Although she did wonder what in Ivalice Sir Basch had been doing, Anya decided to leave the matter alone for a more important one: avenging her dignity. She had only ever lost in the game of wordplay to her _Amba_, _Tatah_, and occasionally, Nono and Vaan (that happened just the day before), so this would be relatively easy. A bit challenging, maybe, because she had always known Vossler to be the obedient and acquiescent soldier in the castle...to royalty, of course, and by known she had meant assumed. Anya walked closer to the raven-haired insurgent till she was beside him. Basch glanced at her curiously.

"A bit loud, all your clinking and clanking," Anya started.

Vossler spared her not even a glance and kept going.

She never gave up on a game so easily. "Clink, clank, clink..."

Basch wondered if he should stop her. Vossler acted as if he heard nothing.

"Clank, clink, clink. You know, it's so _loud_..."

Vossler finally glared at her from the corner of his eye. Basch moved to stop her. "Anya--"

"It's enough to summon another fleet of Archadians!"

It was too late. Vossler turned to her, and had he squeezed the lance in his hand any harder, it would have broken. "What would you have me do, girl?" he snapped, "Remove the armor? Traipse around this dungeon defenseless, in but my undergarments?"

Anya was surprised, but was fast enough to hide it. There would be no losing this game today. She shrugged at him. "If the situation calls for it, yes."

Vossler flared. "You listen here, you little truant. I don't--"

Basch sighed and placed himself in between them. "Anya, Vossler--"

Vossler spoke even with Basch before him; Anya stared back much the same way, though she might have been distracted by the man's hands slowly pushing hers back. "I don't know what Basch sees in you or why he suddenly even considered sparing your lives. I can tell you, however, that it is not out of genuine care or concern. Perhaps he has found an advantage to keeping companionship with a group of self-seeking pirates; perhaps he has realized your disposability and plans wisely to use you as just that–an expendable resource. He must know as well as I do that you would be better off dead. If it were left to me, in fact, you would never have--"

"Vossler! She's a child!"

"I am not a child!" Anya protested, coming out from behind Basch, but she did not dare Vossler to go on. "I'm not..."

"Intruders!"

Shock replaced their angry expressions. Imperials were advancing toward them, presumably coming from the door they had passed earlier. No doubt the dog had already been found; its companions snarled and barked at them, tugging on their leashes in vicious rage.

Vossler readied his lance as one of the Imperials barked orders out to the rest. "Look what you've done."

"I did nothing!" said Anya, hesitating to pull her dagger. The last time she tried battling an Imperial, Vaan had ended up having to take care of the soldier himself and she'd had to give up part of her loot. "It was _your_ clinking and clanking!"

"Now is not the time for argument," said Basch, unsheathing his sword. "Vossler, to your right!"

Vossler listened to Basch with an elbow in the air and landed it into an Imperial's helmet, then swung his lance around and hit him across the waist. A Mastiff kept Basch busy, pouncing him and clawing at his calves until Basch lifted his knee and kicked the dog away by the face. It recovered quickly, rearing its head at him, the saliva pouring through its razor sharp teeth and out of its mouth. It leapt at him with a growl, only to be thrown back against the wall with the sharp edge of the man's sword. Vossler, on the other hand, had a gun aimed and cocked at him, but swiftly pierced his lance through the gunner's shoulder, then grabbed his gun, threw it across the floor, and pulled his bloody lance out of the man's body. As he regained his balance, a second swordsman lunged at him, ready to plunge a silver blade into his stomach. Basch whirled and easily sliced the soldier's head off with his blade.

The helmet, still encasing a bloody head, rolled up to Anya's feet. She shivered and glanced up, finding no way she could help the two skilled warriors until she spotted an Imperial magus chanting what would be a thunder spell at her _favorite_ insurgent. She didn't like him, but she didn't want him electrocuted with a thousand degree burns. "Vossler, get down!"

Kneeing a swordsman in the stomach, Vossler glanced up. This earned him a punch in the face from his recovering opponent, whose steel fingers roughly cut across his skin. The swordsman celebrated his triumph with a laugh. Vossler growled and, with the soldier distracting himself, ran the Imperial's own blade through his stomach.

The magus spotted Anya back and aimed the spell at her instead. "Thunder!" he cried, finishing the spell. Anya swiftly dropped down on her back, barely dodging the bolt, and stood once she recovered to chant an Aero spell. But other Imperials had noticed her already, and she too became a target. Anya stopped chanting and held her breath, bending down to her toes as a swordsman swung his blade around. This was not the kind of attention she wanted. And not from Imperials, especially! Another wave of them appeared. All three of them felt as if the ship was exhausting all its manpower on recapturing their trio. Blinking rapidly, panicking and wondering what to do, Anya pulled her dagger. Vossler had already taken care of the magick users. The Imperial who just missed her laughed and cleaved his sword down at her, but she rolled away to the side just in time.

"A sword, Anya," called Basch, pushing his own against the sword of another Imperial, "Use a sword!" He pushed the swordsman down to the floor and stabbed the sword into his foot, causing the man to cry out in pain. Taking his opponent's weapon, he tossed it in Anya's direction.

"I don't use swords!" replied Anya, sheepish as she sidestepped out of its way. The sword fell to the floor, clanging until Anya's Imperial picked it up and wielded two, now, against her. The man whirled and spun his swords around, showing off, before slashing and slicing them at her in rapid succession. Just as fast, she dodged to the left and to the right, sidestepping and flipping backward once, closely avoiding her death. It was a shame the man only had ten Gil in his pockets!

Anya panted in relief briefly until she realized the swordsman had succeeded in backing her against the wall. She could feel him smirk from under his helmet. One of his sword lightly grazed her thigh, and the other her chest. He was ready to strike.

"Wait!" she cried out. He paused, lowering the blades slightly and cocking his head at her expectantly. She looked around anxiously. Vossler and Basch could see her from the corners of their eyes, but they were too caught up in holding their own to help her, having two or three go at them all at once. "Um..." she looked down to the blades, images of how she would die and how her body would rot there filling her head until rational thought pushed them all aside. Something clicked in her mind. Stepping on the first blade and surprising the swordsman, she balanced on it and lifted her right foot to stand on the second.

"Argh!" The Imperial, supporting her weight but desperate to remove her, took all his strength and lifted his swords up. Anya lost her balance but saved by propelling herself against his head, like winning a violent game of leap frog. The man hit the wall face first and fell, knocked out by the force of the hit.

Anya landed, stumbling into the fray Basch and Vossler were involved in, and almost had a sword cleaved down into her face until she rolled away.. She tried to crawl out of the mess, but she had no choice. Standing up, she found herself in between Basch and his opponent. They had stopped momentarily in surprise, but the Imperial recovered fast and readied to strike them both. Grunting, Basch grabbed her by the shoulder and urged her to the right.

"Sorry!" she gasped. All right, that hadn't been her best idea, she thought miserably, moving forward to miss the Imperials falling one-by-one. Anya believed she was almost out of the fray when an Imperial on the ground pulled her by the ankle, causing her to feel herself falling face first into the floor, and then used her shoulder to get back up. Realizing how it felt to be the victim of a violent almost-leap frog, she fell backwards to one of the floor's blue markers ungracefully. Her tailbone was going to suffer that later this evening...if she survived that far. She transferred her weight to her palms and tried to stand, but fell again as a thousand needles seemed to pierce her skin. Looking down, Anya's eyes widened. Her hands were disappearing, spot by spot!

She watched blue marker swish and slosh about under her, slowly losing its color as she lost herself. Vaan was right! It wasn't just an effect; it was real. It was magick. This feeling, the disappearing slowly, the needles piercing her skin, up her arm now, past her feet... A warp mote. Why they were in the markers didn't matter at the moment. She had to think of where she was going, or--

"Anya!" Basch stared down at her, finally taking his last opponent down. He sheathed his sword and approached her swiftly. Vossler came into view as well, and as the needles crept up to her neck, she thought of the man, though an ass he may have been. Even then, he was Anastacia's first dance; the first gentleman the princess was convinced to dance with on her sixteenth birthday...by Ashelia.

Her eyes met Basch's; he held his hand out to touch her cheek. "Wait..."

With what was left of the humor in her voice, she croaked, "Sorry. Can't be helped."

Basch could only grasp the air.

**XIIXIIXII**

Ashe was hungry, though she would not admit it. She could go deeper and say she was hungry for revenge, hungry for her country's freedom, hungry for the blood of her family's murderers...and she was; it could never be gainsaid. But her captors had barely given her a bite to eat. On the morning following her capture, her separation from that Vaan and the pirates, they had given her bread and a small cup of water. That afternoon, it was the same. And that evening, and the morning after that... They were trying to break her. Make her beg for food, for scraps of what was left of their plates, of her kingdom. She would never. The dethroned princess was too proud.

So proud, in fact, that two years ago, it had taken Vossler all his strength and patience to convince her to pretend she had committed suicide. Just the thought of surrender sickened her. Ashe had wanted to steal into Bhujerba and tell Anastacia she was all right, and that if she would just join her and Vossler they would be able to retake their kingdom again. She had wanted to return to the Nalbina Fortress, the site of her father's death, she knew though it was yet unannounced, and find Basch, whom she had grown to see as a brother, and whom she had once wished would agree to become her brother, because she knew he was still alive.

But then Uncle Halim–Marquis Halim Ondore the Fourth, she corrected herself, and not the man who had watched her grow–revealed that her father's death was all Basch's doing, that in shock of all this, Anastacia had hung herself, and that she herself, the Princess of Dalmasca, had succumbed to poison. That last announcement was all lies and falsehood, of course, but upon her own secret return to Bhujerba, which not even Vossler had known of, she herself had discovered that the _Sainikah_ really had found Anastacia's body in her room and that there was an eyewitness who had seen Basch murder her beloved father.

Needless to say, her heart hardened itself. The warmth of Rasler's arms might have saved her then, but he had long gone. She was tired, hungry, and alone.

Like the wind howling and blowing, the sound of magick filled her prison cell, only to dissipate and sprinkle down in sparks of light, reminiscent of dying fireworks. "Very bright," said a voice that had not been in the room before, "spreading the mote magick around the markers like that... I didn't know it was possible. If motes are only good for one use, though, how do they keep track of which markers are empty? More importantly...where in the Dreadnought am I?"

"It's you," muttered Ashe, clearly surprised at the person's appearance, but did not remove herself from her position. The cell was largely empty, and though there was a bit more color toward the ceiling than most of the halls outside, it was as dreadful as the rest of the ship. Far across the door, a small bench hung against the wall, cold and hard. On it sat Ashe, leaning her head against the wall, fatigued.

It was Anya who had suddenly arrived in the room, inspecting her hands and feet as if shocked to see them again. Hearing another voice, she turned and gasped. "Asheli...you!"

Ashe straightened herself on her seat and watched her warily. "What are you doing here? How did you arrive? Do you have a key?"

"...No," replied Anya after a long pause spent staring at her. "No keys, unfortunately. And I suppose these are your 'separate' quarters."

"My cell, yes," she replied, still curt. "And I take it you have no idea how you arrived here."

Anya pouted slightly. "I do. Do you remember seeing the blue markers from time to time, in the halls? Somehow, the Archadians have found a way to break motes down and conform them into shapes other than the sphere, yet still keep the Mist inside the new shape. Those markers were motes. By accident, I touched one with my bare hand...which everyone knows is a silly thing to do with motes that aren't of Holy, Dark, Wind, or Water in nature, and...well, I'm here now, aren't I? Shame I couldn't have found a Scathe or a Vanishga mote, which would have been extremely useful on Vossler, either way--"

"I don't need a lesson in magick," Ashe interrupted the girl's rambling. "Do you know a way out of here?"

Anya didn't like being interrupted, but she took her dagger out and showed it to Ashelia anyway. "I could try sawing through the door with my dagger until it blunts. Would that make you happy?"

Ashe glared at her before closing her eyes and turning away, deciding, though she was crankier than usual, that getting angry wasn't worth it at the moment.

Anya sighed and crawled over to the wall across Ashelia's bench. One and a half years building her career into becoming a million Gil sky pirate had done this to her. Sarcasm, indifference...it all seemed so pretentious when she was with _her_. Although she did admit that she was oddly resigned to her fate this morning. Was it even still morning? It was hard to keep track of time when one's whole world was suddenly the flagship of an empire's great fleet. Staring up at Ashelia, she felt so anxious. She wanted to tell the girl everything– from the enemies and the friends she had made to the love she thought she'd had for a man not even her own race, and to how happy she was to see her again, after all this time, even though her father's death had seemingly turned her heart to stone. But Ashelia wasn't a girl anymore; she was a woman, clearly, and Anya couldn't ever share her experiences with a princess, dethroned or no. They were worlds apart.

"What?"

Anya blinked and realized that she was still staring at Ashelia, who was now staring back at her apprehensively. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"N-nothing," Anya insisted, looking away. "I was in deep thought. I didn't realize I was staring at _you_."

Ashe harrumphed to herself silently, only a little humbled. And there she was, actually considering trying a friendship with the pirate! "You were with Vossler, you say?" she asked anyway, acting unaffected. "He is here?"

"Of course he is," said Anya, tossing her dagger in the air again and concentrating on playing around with it. "We were on our way to save your distressed Majesty when I chanced upon that blasted Warp mote. Are you all right? You look pale."

"I am fine, and I am not a damsel in distress," replied Ashe, hiding her shame and fatigue with exasperation. Was that all she had been reduced to? It did seem the case, didn't it? "In any case,_you_ are just as trapped as I am, now."

Anya shrugged. It wasn't the first time, though it was always more fun being the cavalry. "Trapped in a dungeon with no way out, tired and wishing for freedom, waiting for her valiant knight– if not utterly brusque and rude; that is, Vossler– to come and rescue her... You certainly fit the part. It isn't something to be ashamed of; though you may envy them for being able to be out there and playing a morbid kind of tag with the Imperials where everybody is_ it_..."

Having rolled her eyes as the thief rambled, Ashe suddenly paid attention. "What did you say? About playing and all that?"

Anya closed her mouth and shook her head, setting her dagger on the ground. "I said we..." she frowned, searching her thoughts for a lie. "I said we might be playing right into their trap, saving you and all that."

"Oh."

The two fell silent once more.

Anya distracted herself by balancing the tip of her dagger on her finger and trying again when she failed, and tried to think of a topic of conversation. Balthier wouldn't have wanted her to talk to Ashelia (or would he have? He was so cranky this morning that she couldn't tell), but an awkward silence with Ashelia was something she could never do with. As long as she didn't talk about the woman's being a princess, or a rebel, or about her life two years before...

"How long have you been an insurgent?"

Curse her mouth.

Ashe glared at Anya from her seat and gripped the edges of her skirt to control her irritation. "I am a member of the Resistance," she repeated, "I have been so for two years. That much should have been obvious, as Dalmasca has been in Archadian hands for just as long."

Anya felt stupid. And she was, for even bringing this up. "I see."

She didn't feel at all guilty for snapping at the pirate, but Ashe was curious and needed to forget about her hunger. And this girl couldn't have been more than a year or so younger than her. "How long have you been a thief?"

"I have been a sky pirate," replied Anya, giving the dethroned princess the irritation she wanted to hear, "for two years."

"Where were you from?" '_Which country did you forsake?_' was what she had meant to ask, but Ashe knew well enough that an argument here and now would only tire them both.

Anya wanted to say she was a Hume raised by the Garif, or even that she was born outside the continent of Ivalice, but she'd already given the answer to such a question, and consistency was key in deception. "I was from Nabradia," she answered, secretly rejoicing in Ashelia's stunned expression, and perfunctorily continued, reciting as if she were being tested in an oral exam. "But I was sent to Balfonheim to live with distant relatives when my parents and brother had all been--" Anya stopped and glanced to the door, then looked back to Ashelia. "Can you hear that?"

Ashe's eyebrows furrowed. "Hear what?"

"Yeah! I thought so!" a young man cheered from outside.

"Quiet. Do you want more of them to come?" hushed a grown man with him.

Anya anxiously watched the door slide open. The first to enter was Vossler, who did not notice her because his eyes were on Ashelia. "You are unharmed?" he asked, rushing towards her.

Ashe stood up for the first time, holding out to him. "Vossler, I--"

Anya brought herself to stand, too, when Ashelia lost her balance, but Vossler caught her and there was really no need for her input on the matter of the dethroned princess's current condition. Instead, she turned her eyes to the rest who had filed in, and the first she laid her eyes on was-- "Sir Basch!"

He had already turned to her in surprise earlier and held his hands out to touch her now; only to make sure that she wasn't disappearing this time, of course. She reciprocated the gesture, as if they were old friends who had not seen each other for a long time, when their fingers almost rested on their forearms and their wrists touched and they realized they were not. As if bitten, they pulled away from each other, and Anya finally noticed the others: Vaan, Balthier, and Fran, leaving Basch to join Vossler and Ashe in conversation.

"Anya, how did you get here?" asked Vaan as she came up to them, returning her pouch (sack), which he had been tasked to carry. "When we saw Basch and Vossler, you weren't--"

"The markers are Warp motes!" Anya exclaimed, before Balthier could start on talking about how if she had been faster, they wouldn't have gotten separated in the first place. "I touched one with my bare hand, and...and then I was here."

"Warp motes require a target," said Balthier, raising an eyebrow at her. "You couldn't have thought to be sent to us?"

"It was an accident," Anya frowned, "I wasn't thinking clear--"

"Come on, come on!" Vaan groaned at the two groups of people about to argue among themselves, somewhat bitter that he wasn't being involved in any of them. And people said he had bad timing! "Let's go! What are you waiting for? Penelo's still out there!"

Balthier nodded in agreement, already halfway out the door with Fran and Anya. "We should hurry. They won't be long."

After releasing a Moogle merchant named Tetran and his young partner (much to Vossler's chagrin), who had also been wrongfully captured by Judge Ghis, the Magister they had encountered earlier, for some unknown reason, the seven moved on, eager to escape, only for the alarms to sound out from all around them. The dull white of the halls were replaced with blinking red lights, as if the ship was alive and angry with them for attempting to leave it.

"That's just dandy!" cried the Moogle merchant Tetran, adjusting the large pouch he had filled with his wares. "And here I thought we were going to escape with our lives!"

"Of course we are!" Vaan replied, trying to be the mature one for a change, "If we just calm down and, uh...think straight, and..."

"Majesty," Basch spoke clearly above the flagship's sirens. "We will cut you a path."

Ashe scoffed. "I will not place my trust in the sword of a traitor!"

Anya glanced at her with an annoyed expression and was about to speak when Fran held her back by the shoulder and shook her head. Balthier was too busy looking around for the best path to escape through to notice.

"Yet trust his sword we must, traitor or no. I see no other way. We track back," said Vossler to Balthier. The two had barely spoken yet hated each other already, but for now each knew he would have to put up with the other. "Commandeer a ship and make our escape."

Balthier nodded and rallied the rest on forward, trying to remember the way back to the elevator leading to the smaller ships attached to the Dreadnought. "The markers around the Dreadnought," Fran told him as they ran side-by-side, her ears throbbing with pain. The alarms were close to unbearable. "They would be a quicker mode of transportation."

"We need a clear target," replied Balthier, aware that the insurgents were now eavesdropping on their conversation. "A name or a face on the ship. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone around the ship. Unless any of you have the urge to see that Judge again."

"Ugh," Vaan groaned to Anya, having given up on his maturity. "How are we going to find Penelo now?"

Fran stopped. Balthier stopped. Basch, Vossler, and Ashe stopped, too, and Anya, Tetran, and his partner stopped only to wonder what was going on. Vaan skidded to a halt. This was weird. So far, they only did this when he said something that might have been embarrassing.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

**XIIXIIXII**

Penelo was not having a good day.

Or a good week, for that matter. First arrived Vayne Solidor, Rabanastre's new Consul and the son of Archadia's emperor, and then there was that banquet for him, which everyone was scrambling and tripping over thsemselves to prepare for, and then Vaan had been caught by the Imperials in the Garamsythe, for some reason, and taken to Faram knew where! After that, a group of horrifying Bangaa kidnapped her and brought her to Bhujerba to use her as bait for that Balthier person who was arrested with Vaan...and though they did set her free, where was Vaan? She wasn't even given the chance to look for him before the Imperials caught her, too! Thankfully, Larsa had saved her...Larsa, the younger brother of Vayne, and the youngest son of Emperor Gramis. It was bizarre how a boy so kind was related to the man who'd caused the death of so many people; the annihilation of an entire country, even!

Anyway, now they were on this giant Archadian airship, and Larsa was dragging her around without telling her where exactly he was planning to get to... Why were all the boys she made friends with like this?

"Larsa, where exactly are we--"

Penelo nearly knocked Larsa over as he stopped running and looked to their left. Magick dissipated from the area in small sparks of light, and there was a large group of people bending forward and touching the ground. "Ugh!" said a Moogle, falling back and touching not his skin as the others were but groping the pouch on his back. "If we _ever_ have to do that again--"

"Vaan!" Penelo cried, recognizing him as he staggered backward. She felt herself lose balance at the sight of him. Hearing her voice, Vaan wasted no time in recovering his own and returning to her, faster even than Vossler was to Ashe. He caught Penelo and supported her as they met in a tight embrace, his arm around her back and her head against his shoulder.

"It's okay," he whispered, squeezing her reassuringly. "We're okay."

Larsa glanced at Anya by accident and caught her with a pleased grin but, remembering her companion's threats to him in the Lhusu Mines, shook his head and turned to the entire group, consisting of two Moogles, the Viera and her Humes (one of whom, undoubtedly, was Archadian in origin), Basch fon Ronsenburg, Vossler Azelas, and the former Princess of Dalmasca. "Ghis knows you've escaped. You must hurry," he ordered, truly the son of an Emperor. Turning to Vossler Azelas, the man in Imperial armor, he continued. "You are Captain Azelas; you will follow me. We must reach the airships before they do."

"You would let us leave..." Vossler repeated the words in his mind even after he said them, "Knowing who we are?"

Balthier rolled his eyes, reloading his gun busily. "I have a feeling this will take a while," he said to Fran and Anya, motioning to Larsa speaking with Ashe.

Fran was amused. "Says the leading man."

"Whose task is to make the same sort of inspirational speech, mind you," Anya added with a grin.

Roling his eyes again but chuckling this time, Balthier turned to Basch, standing somewhere to his left. The man had been listening in on their conversations for a while, now, and he was genuinely curious as to why one so _honorable_ as he would bother. "Have anything to report, captain?"

Basch seemed shocked; Balthier excused him, knowing he was taught to draw his sword and draw attention. "...What are you talking about?"

Balthier shrugged coolly. "Well, since you seem so keen on knowing what we--"

"I believe 'tis for the good of Dalmasca, and the good of the Empire," Larsa finished loudly. Balthier stopped and narrowed his eyes at the child upon hearing this, but made no other motion to acknowledge his presence.

"Very well, then," said Ashe, nodding a bit reluctantly at Larsa's unsaid request for friendship, at least between the two of them.

Vaan stepped forward, leaving Penelo's side for the first time since they had seen each other again. "Thanks, _Lamont_."

The maturity in Larsa's posture disappeared. Awkwardly, in an almost embarrassed fashion, he looked up to Vaan. "Uh...I must apologize," he said. Vaan gave a small 'hmph' in reply, but the boy had already moved on to Penelo. Placing what Vaan recognized was the Nethicite into her hand, Larsa smiled. "Penelo, for you. May it bring you good fortune."

"...Thanks," said Penelo, returning his smile before he turned to leave with Vossler and the two merchant Moogles. Vaan had watched the exchange with an emotion he refused to acknowledge now and instead grabbed Penelo's hand. Once Balthier was left to lead the group around again, Vaan pulled Penelo into a sprint, and the girl looked down in surprise. His fingers were intertwined with hers, and his hold on her was so firm that it felt as if he would never again release her.

Penelo was having a wonderful day.

**XIIXIIXII**

"Why _aren't_ we going with Vossler to find a ship again?" asked Vaan. They were still running for their lives, but now he wasn't sure why exactly that was. Why couldn't they all come along to secure an airship?

Tilting her head backward slightly, as if it would help her think, Anya glanced at Balthier. "That is a very good question," she agreed, "Are we looking to retrieve the Shard?"

"I don't know where it could be hidden," said Ashe, irritated with her present situation as usual. She should have paid more attention to where they were taking her around instead of being stupid and feeling hungry.

"We passed by no repositories on the way to this level. And they placed all our weapons in Anya's..." Basch trailed off, turning his head to the girl and the pouch buffeting her back as she ran, "Would you like me to carry that?"

Anya wanted to say 'yes, please', but she felt the group's attentive eyes on her and shook her head. "No."

Basch's slightly alarmed reaction to this answer amused Vaan to some extent, but he was still discontented. "I just noticed that nobody's answering my question."

"We're a distraction, " Balthier finally answered. "A twenty-one million Gil distraction, by estimation..."

"You forget the captain," Fran told him.

Realizing Basch was present, he added, "Perhaps even more. To give your friend time to snag us a ship." Basch and Vaan glanced at each other. It was the first time they had seen the pirate allow himself to be corrected, though they supposed it wasn't as shocking that he'd allowed his Viera partner to do so.

Penelo glanced at her companions. She was really too confused to think about who they were at the moment, but she did know that they all knew each other already and that she was the only one who hadn't given her input yet. It was unconcerting. Back in Rabanastre, she was the one being asked for attention. Over here, Vaan was the only one she really knew. "Um..." she started, trying to think of something useful to say, "If we're the distraction, where are the people we're distracting? We...we haven't seen any Imperials since...at all."

"Ah," Fran graced her with a small smile. "She speaks."

"Indeed she does," said Anya and, playing the fool, asked her, "Who are you again?"

"Penelo," she answered complaisantly, "I'm Penelo."

"Oh, Penelo! We're all so happy to finally meet you, Penelo," Anya continued, still grinning. "Vaan has told us so much about you. Hasn't he?"

Fran didn't have much of a reaction. Basch wondered where she was going with all this and if they were almost at the Port Launch. Ashe gave a distinct rolling of eyes and decided she didn't care about not understanding whatever their little inside joke was. Only Balthier chortled in reply as Vaan reeled. "What?"

"What have you..." Penelo looked back and forth between the two thieves. "What has he said about me?"

"Oh, amazing things, like--"

"Port Launch," Balthier interrupted, interesting as the teasing might have been, and swiped a keycard he'd received from Vossler against the lock of another tall, black-sheeted sliding door. "We're here."

The lower side of the Dreadnought's hull served as an umbrella for the Port Launch, shielding it from the vicious downward drafts above but leaving it vulnerable to those skyward bound. Dim blue lamps surrounded its edges, used only in the evening; apart from that, there was nothing else around, the emptiness and lack of smaller airships usually docking the area not withstanding.

"The silence..." Fran frowned, her ears twitching. The alarms had ceased, but there was still a ringing in her ears that prevented her from hearing the arrival of a whole posse of Imperials. "Our actions were foreseen."

"Such a great shame," came the Magister's voice, confirming all their fears. Judge Ghis walked over to them from the hanging platform near the Port Launch's edge, where the airship Vossler would acquire might have docked. Penelo turned to run back out the door, but froze once she did. At least a dozen and a half Imperials had surrounded their only exit; the door was already closed. "I thought you the one who would help us restore peace to Dalmasca."

"I don't want a rehash of the fete night," said Balthier to his companions at the rear, taking his gun from its holster.

Penelo, beside Ashe and behind Basch and Vaan, clenched the Nethicite fearfully. "Wh-what are we going to do?" she asked no one in particular.

"No matter," Ghis continued, aware that only the two allegedly dead Dalmascans were listening to him. "We hold the proof of your Royal Lineage. A maid of passing resemblance will serve our purposes now."

"Fran, to the Imperials with me," ordered Balthier, still staring ahead to Judge Ghis, though from his peripherals he could see Fran nodding. He was unaware, however, of Ashe's attention to the matter. "Anya, try to take care of your younger playmates, if you still want them."

"Me?" Anya repeated, not because she didn't want to, but because she was shocked with the assignment.

"And whoever wants to take _that_ brute on," Balthier continued, referring to Ghis, "Is free to do so."

"As for you, my dear..." The Magister's eyes moved from the dethroned Dalmascan princess to the street brat Larsa had _salvaged_ from the slums of Bhujerba. In the space between his palms, magick stirred. Wisps of flame flickered about his hands as the air around them swirled with intensity.

"I will fight him," said Basch, drawing his sword.

Ghis chanted a few words more before the excited air and the bursts of flame accumulated into a great ball of fire and rose above the seven. "The Empire requires you no more!" he bellowed, commanding the fireball to rage down upon them.

"This feels familiar," Vaan mumbled, squinting his eyes as the flaming sphere came nearer and nearer; not that it would prepare him for the pain he knew he was about to undergo.

"A few nights ago, this might have surprised me," Balthier sighed, "Slightly."

Nothing came; no flames, no pain, no magick. It was quite the opposite, actually. As soon as the sphere came within fifteen feet of Fran, it broke down into countlessly tiny particles of...whatever it was, as it couldn't even have been called flame anymore. The particles were vacuumed into Penelo's hand--rather, the stone in Penelo's hand. It was warm and it glowed a bright blue, as the Dusk shard had in Vaan's hands earlier that morning.

Penelo held the stone up and looked around it. The others, too, seemed to have forgotten about their near brush with death, and not because they had grown morbidly accustomed to it. "What was that?"

Balthier knew in an instant. "The Nethicite."

Ashe allowed herself to be distracted by the Nethicite's allure for a second more and then stepped forward to Ghis, reasonably angry with the attempt on her life. Ghis growled, but did not reveal his fury his own fury otherwise. "Your Majesty does not disappoint! Ever quick to spurn an honorable surrender..." he smiled wickedly under his helmet, certain of the woman's reaction. "As was your father."

Ashe felt her breath get caught in her throat as she inhaled sharply, the heat rising from her back and the rage within her creeping in and blinding her vision. "You know nothing of my father!" she shrieked, frightening even the Imperials in the back of the room, and rushed forward.

"No, Majesty!" Basch called urgently. "I will--"

"Do nothing," said Fran, calmly. "It is her fight."

"But--" The pirates always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

"Ashelia!" Anya yelled frantically for her attention, and then tossed her a sword.

Ashe stopped and turned with a face filled with almost recognition, only for her anger to return as she caught the sword in between her shaking fingers. Releasing an uninhibited battle cry, she struck down on Ghis, who deftly met her blade with his own. He'd almost seemed shocked that time.

"Temper, temper," Ghis remarked, recovering and aiming his sword at her stomach, "What a difference from the soft-spoken princess we had heard of!"

Berserk with rage, Ashe could only cry out furiously once more. She deflected his attack and glanced the side of his waist with a lucky swing, sending the Judge staggering to his right. Behind them, Vaan cheered triumphantly. Ghis shook his head to clear it and took a step back to avoid another uncontrolled swing. Noticing that Ashe's companions and his soldiers had simply been watching their battle, he commanded, "Seize them!"

The Imperials sprang to action, taking their swords and bows out and preparing their magick. Balthier backed slightly, aiming his gun readily at the foot soldiers, while Fran took after Basch and decided to use a sword for this particular battle. In his mind, Vaan had been planning his every move once the soldiers attacked them, even before the Judge started to talk, so now he was feeling rather smug as he faced their horde fearlessly. Penelo had no weapons and could not be lent a staff since she had the Nethicite in her hands and simply stood behind her best friend. Vaan soon left her side without a word, however, having felt the need to taste victory over the Archadians once more.

Capable only with a staff in hand, Penelo was helpless now, holding the Nethicite close. Her still figure amongst all those leaping and ducking in the conflict attracted a number of swordsmen, who had already started towards her.

Suddenly and violently, she was shoved forward. Stumbling, Penelo turned around to see the girl who had said Vaan was talking about her throwing something at three Imperials who seemed to have been right behind her. Clear, sticky goo exploded all over them as the girl dropped her sack and chanted under her breath, facing her palms to the three. Watching the distracted Imperials react in disgust to the liquid that had seeped into their armor, Penelo recognized the Fira spell just in time for the girl to cry out, "Fira!"

The Imperials knew at that moment that the pirate had thrown an Oil Bomb at them and gasped; the girl grinned triumphantly. Only when they all realized that they hadn't erupted in flames did they exchange expressions with the fugitive. Penelo too wondered what had happened, until she and Anya both remembered the Nethicite. The swordsmen didn't care why they weren't running around on fire; just that the two prisoners were still open for attack.

"Ooh!" the girl grumbled, turning to glare at the stone Penelo held, and took her by the wrist after taking her sack back up on her shoulder. "Come now, faster!"

Accustomed to running for her life, thanks to many of Vaan's past schemes, Penelo had no trouble catching up. But there was nowhere to run, and soon they were backed against nothing–literally. There were only the Imperials before them, wielding their swords threateningly, and the air behind and below them. Penelo ventured a guess that the ground below would not be a mountain of freshly fluffed pillows. She and the girl now held each other's hands with an almost crushing grip. "Careful," the girl muttered, releasing her, though Penelo wasn't sure if she was talking to her. "I shouldn't have left those bombs in the _Strahl_..."

One of the swordsmen sighed. "Just give yourselves up. It would make things easier for all of us."

"No," the pirate drawled. "Not when there's still a chance of escape."

"The only way you'll be escaping is if you jump off the ship!" the second laughed, advancing. Instinctively, Anya took a step back. She slipped, momentarily losing her balance, and fell.

Penelo gasped in horror, turning, but sighed in relief at the sight of her holding on to the edge; and then she realized her predicament. Her motherly instincts kicked in instantly and prompted her to bend down and help the girl up.

"No, no!" the girl yelled. Penelo thought she was pretty ungrateful. "Keep your eyes on_ them_!"

Huffing, Penelo turned back. Just what did she want her to do? She didn't have any weapons, and obviously she couldn't just leave her there! The Imperials advanced slowly, as if actually hoping she wouldn't fall off, too. They must've wanted the Nethicite. "Hey," still bent down, Penelo called to her companion hanging on for dear life, "Wh-what do we do? You could let go of your sack and get up easily, and we could make a break for it..."

Anya corrected her in her mind, thinking it was a pouch and _not_ a sack, but knew it was not the time to be petty. And she wasn't going to let go of the thing! It had almost all her loot, and Fran hadn't traded them all off for valuable, valuable Gil yet!

Receiving no verbal response, Penelo sighed. "I guess we're going to be captured again..."

The pouch. Of course! Anya began to swing her feet together back and forth, thanking Faram that it wasn't extremely windy now and trying not to think of how a cluster of jagged rocks would very unkindly break her fall, if ever she did. Once she had enough momentum, she kept her pouch in place behind her and swung her feet forward; then, swinging backward with full force, she kicked her pouch. It did a full 180 and landed beside Penelo. "Use it!" Anya yelled again. "Swing it around!"

Penelo nodded and pocketed the Nethicite. She held the sack by its strings as Anya worked on heaving herself back onto the landing. Pulling it up, the street rat gave a weak sway, barely hitting the Imperials, who stepped back in surprise; and then she cried out for strength and swung. For a second Penelo thought the room had started spinning, until she realized that it was she who had done so; the sack kept her whirling like a madman. Only when it collided with the three men, who had tried to cut her down as she spun and failed, did it allow her to stop.

The soldiers were on the ground now, their heads having slammed into each other, causing a messy falling domino effect. Penelo was just as dazed, supporting herself with her hands as she tried not to be sick. "Ugh..."

"Nice work," said the girl, approaching her on her knees. Her arms seemed limp. Setting herself down beside Penelo, she wearily offered her right hand. "Anya. Thank you for saving us."

"You're...welcome..." Holding head dizzily with her free hand, Penelo accepted in between pants. "Nice to...meet you."

Ghis made a feint and extended his sword towards Ashe, who responded with a step to her right and a lunge for his side. Expecting this, Ghis parried the attack effortlessly and returned with a riposte. Ashe stumbled backward, but Ghis gave her little time to recover.

Vaan jumped backward and gasped, just missing a blaze of Firaga that rushed past him; he was able to tell because it was impossible to forget all the screaming he and Kytes had done when Penelo first learned and _unleashed_ the spell. They never should have stolen that scroll for her 16th birthday. At the moment, he wasn't doing as superbly as he thought he would. His grand plan was supposed to go somewhere along the lines of him giving out this awe-inspiring battle cry and then just diving head on into the battle, swinging and thrusting his sword and knocking soldiers down left and right and impressing Fran, all with the astounding grace and ferocity of a Razorfin, but that wasn't working out too well. All he was able to do so far was duck, jump, and run away, since the group of soldiers he had tried to attack were mages who so rapidly and simultaneously bombarded him with black magick that it was all he could do.

Looking back, maybe he shouldn't have been so cocky. He had only defeated two Imperials in their quest to free Ashe before, and they _might_ have already been worn down by Basch, or Balthier, or that Vossler. Maybe.

Either way, he was just glad everyone else was too busy to notice him.

Glancing something cold with his elbow as he backed up again, this time almost hit by a blizzard spell, Vaan knew he was wrong. (Although part of him had hoped he was, so that someone could help him get out of the loop of running and ducking and jumping the mages had gotten him into.) Strands of soft white grazing his shoulder, Vaan looked up and saw Fran muttering something under her breath, her eyes on the Imperials. She didn't look too impressed.

"Blizzara."

Blasts of ice blocked up and tightened around the Imperials' joints, perpendicular to the trail of snowflakes slowly disappearing from the path in the air Fran had waved her hand across.

"...Thanks," Vaan breathed.

"It was nothing," replied Fran, as if practiced, and gave him a small smile. Vaan felt his stomach flip. He tried to think of something dry to say, something Balthier might say, that would fit the mood and make him sound cool and collected even in gratitude, but the boy was at a loss and kept his mouth shut again.

Fran expected no real reply from him and scanned the area. Glancing at Vaan briefly, she motioned to the Imperials approaching them and prepared an arrow for her bow. She couldn't help it if she loved target practice.

A gasp. Fran tilted her head and looked past Vaan, who turned as well. Ghis had managed to trap Ashe between the black floor and the shining blade in his hand.

"Go, now," she instructed him, firing a soldier down already. "I will cover you." Vaan complied with haste. Left alone, Fran continued to shoot the Imperials in the spaces between their armor. Surely, no one noticed the way she stepped backward once in uncertainty.

The problem with Vaan was that he had a very bad habit of unleashing a 'battle cry' when there was an opponent to be attacked. It was because of this that Ghis heard him coming from behind and turned just in time to parry his attack. Vaan recovered and thrust his sword forward, aiming for Ghis's thigh. The Magister jumped back, his eyebrows raised behind his helmet. It seemed this battle would actually be interesting.

Basch was finding himself standing back-to-back against pirates lately, faced with a horde of enemies. Yesterday they had been zombies with Anya. Today, Imperials with Balthier. Who was he going to be up against with the Viera woman, he wondered?

Although he really hadn't the time to. Having watched him cut a weak swordsman down, an Imperial gunman had cornered him, ready to shoot him at point blank range. He had been thinking of a way to distract the young soldier in order to get an opening when Balthier arrived, shooting the Imperial a little above his ankles. The soldier fell to his side, crying out and curling up into a fetal position.

"Silly thing about Imperial armor," Balthier had said, stepping over the soldier grimly, "They have weak spots in all the wrong places." He was about to reply when a swordsman lunged towards Balthier from behind. It was only right to help the man, of course, though Basch needed only the determined expression on his face to alert Balthier of the impending sword to his skull. The pirate had ducked and somersaulted forward, the Imperial's blade giving an empty clang against the ground in between his heels as he began to stand.

Basch realized how long it had been since he was in an actual battle when he found himself wondering if he'd heard Balthier yelp and rush behind him. This lapse in concentration had given his opponent enough time to attempt another hit, though he was relieved to still be in possession of his reflexes. Blinking, he met the soldier's sword with a strong upward swing before advancing and kicking him square in the stomach. The soldier fell on his back like a silicon tortoise; Balthier shot each of his ankles once for good measure. His shoulders slumped in relief for a moment until he realized Balthier's eyes were not burning into his back. The pirate and his Viera partner never really paid him much attention, actually, but in the midst of battle it was an oddity, and Basch bent his knees again and strengthened the grip on his sword's hilt.

"That's right," Balthier drawled in a whisper after that, having sensed the sudden tension in the air behind him. He had turned around to find a flock of Imperials with their swords not more than quarter of a foot away from his throat. "It's never that easy."

Basch looked up and almost stepped on Balthier's heel. He had his own slew of soldiers surrounding him now, mages holding their staves high in a threatening manner, ready to use their magick. The girl with the magick-absorbing stone was far from them, after all. Together, the Imperials formed a circle around them. "Tsk..."

Here he was now.

"Drop your weapons," ordered one of the Archadians. "Surrender peacefully and you might keep your lives."

"Although it may sound tempting," whispered Balthier, and almost as if speaking from experience, he reasoned, "Archadians love to lie. Don't do it."

"I wasn't about to," replied Basch, speaking in the same manner through the corner of his mouth. Had he been able to speak normally, he would have sounded insulted. "Mages on your side as well?"

"Swordsmen. I could use one of those."

"And a gun would be convenient."

"Have you ever even used one of these?"

Basch stiffened. "I am not _that_ old."

"Drop your weapons!" the soldier repeated, growing impatient.

"Point taken," Balthier continued. "A swift drop should knock them off their feet. The swap should be easy then, and if they haven't recovered, we'll have cleared our way through to an escape. If all goes right with your princess, we'll have survived another day. Any questions?"

Basch nodded. "Now?"

Balthier couldn't help but grin. He had to give the man some credit; he didn't waste time. "Now."

"Drop your--"

With speed rivaling thought, the two dropped their weapons and themselves down to a crouch, reaching out and sliding their ankles clockwise against the Imperials' feet. Some of them were actually affected by this, though most of them had lost their balance out of shock, while the few who weren't lunged at Balthier or aimed their spells at Basch. Leaping away from the first few attacks, Balthier and Basch slid their weapons toward each other, only to fall back as the electricity crackling from the air around one of the mages missed them and directed itself instead through the sword of another soldier, surging through the blade and down the man's armor.

Standing and refusing to waste another second, Balthier parried an oncoming strike and returned it by executing a rather flawed flunge, a technique he had favored even in his past, when he had still been required to use a sword. Years of neglect for the craft had decreased his once high proficiency.

Moving only when there was no chance of dodging more currents of electricity and bouts of fire and ice, Basch relentlessly fired heaps of bullets at the mages, stopping only for a few moments to wait for Balthier to toss him more ammunition. He followed the pirate's advice and shot only in their weak spots, but never having taken the time to discover how exactly the machine worked, he had such little control over it that he seemed to fire at three bullets per ankle.

A few minutes later, the middle end of the hair at the nape of Basch's neck was somewhat charred and his feet were rather cold. Balthier suffered a few cuts on his sleeves, though he acted more concerned about his vest. Catching their breath, the two looked over the scene of the battle they had won before returning each other's weapons.

"Not bad," Balthier remarked, though the air in his voice that accompanied almost all his compliments could not be avoided. "Where did you learn to use one?"

"Training," Basch replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. Balthier cringed and looked away as the man wiped it against his side. "King Raminas had learned of the technological advancements of Archadia and desired to offset this imbalance. We did not come too far with it, but...it had its an advantage, I see now. You wield a sword fairly well. Where did you...?"

After an unnervingly long pause (considering the circumstances), Balthier answered, his voice low and soft. "Training." Pointing to something past Basch, he hurried away.

Basch wiped the blood from his blade thoughtfully. The pirate; training? He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen his swordfighting, sluggish though it may have been. He and his partners didn't seem like the kind to be held down for something so trivial as weapon practice and arms drills. They were unconventional, the three, with the way they acted and the way they dealt with the predicaments they constantly found themselves faced with, and even their 'language' confused him. It had taken him about fifteen seconds to realize what exactly Balthier meant by 'knocking them off their feet with a swift drop', and even then he was unsure if he really understood. They regarded each other with guarded camaraderie, and right then Basch realized just how fallible they were. Anya withheld from Balthier the knowledge of Princess Ashe's survival. Had she known, even in Rabanastre? Balthier never taught Anya to use a sword. Had it been a deliberate decision, so she would be inferior to him always, and in this way? Fran seemed detached from all that happened around them. Their scant trust was a handicap that--

"Gyah!" cried Vaan, the sword flying from his grip. He had engaged Ghis in battle to distract him and give the princess time to escape!

"Don't!" said Ashe, finally managing to stand. She would never try to escape something she believed she could defeat. "I can take him."

Ghis chuckled. "The street rat put up more of a fight than you did, your_ Majesty_. I would suggest you leave the fighting to him," he said, enjoying watching the princess flare up, until he saw Vaan scrambling and taking his sword up again. "Unless you both plan to challenge me; though I would advise you against outmatching yourselves."

"Perhaps I can even the odds," said Basch, surrounding Ghis completely with Ashe and Vaan. He nodded at the man, challenging him with bent knees and an a partly outstretched sword.

"Stay out of this!" Ashe hissed.

Basch continued forward despite this until an arrow flew past, barely missing him. Turning to his left with wide eyes, he saw Fran shaking her head. Why had she fired one at him?

The answer came in the form of four bullets, one for each of Ghis's elbows and the last two for his shoulder and ankle. Ghis dropped his sword, groaning slightly as he fell to his knees. Ashe sent a glare past Basch, to the pirate just lowering his gun to see what he had accomplished. Although she was glad it was over for now, she did not appreciate his interruption.

"Don't anybody thank me," said Balthier, rolling his eyes when the rest, with Fran as an exception, stared at him in surprise. "Battles shouldn't have to be this dragging. You'll impress us all with your vengeance another time, princess."

"How dare--"

The doors opened from the outside. Panting, Vossler rushed in, ignoring all the Imperials on the floor. "We've secured an Atomos," he said. "Come!"

Penelo and Anya helped each other up and followed the others as they ran out of the room. His vision blurring, Ghis could only watch them go.

"An Atomos?" Balthier repeated, hardly impressed. And after all the bullets he'd wasted! "All skiff, no ship. Hardly fit for a leading man..."

Vaan glanced at him hopefully. "So I can fly it then?"

Anya laughed. Fran didn't give him another second to even think about it. "Are you mad?"

Vaan sighed. How did he know one of them was going to say that?

"Warp mote," said Vossler, stopping after they passed one. They surrounded it and each touched a part of it.

His hand tingling again, Vaan asked, "Who's our target this time?"

Vossler looked away, ashamed to admit whose help they needed to make this quick escape. "Tetran."

Balthier smirked, pleased, and they disappeared.

**XIIXIIXII**

"In we go, in we go!" Tetran hurried them into the Atomos, a tiny carrier ship fit for only a dozen soldiers, and dove behind one of the seats with his assistant once they were all inside.

Fran reached the controls before Vossler could. The proud insurgent was forced to sit back and trust his life with the Viera, who was now surrounded by the two children and Her Majesty.

"Don't worry," said Basch, taking a seat beside his old friend. He hadn't missed the anxiety on Vossler's face. "We _will_ escape. I would think Fran accustomed to hasty getaways like this."

Vossler grunted in reply, concentrated on glaring at Balthier, still smirking. Next to him was Anya, who realized the two wouldn't stop at their game until one of them looked away. Knowing Balthier, she thought, he wouldn't allow Vossler to win when he was so skilled at the game.

As the Leviathan opened itself to set them free and the sunlight set in, Anya squinted her eyes at Basch. "Where will you go after this?"

Basch noted that she spoke of him and herself as two separate entities. Would their involvement end here? He didn't find himself as relieved as he thought he would be. "I suppose we will seek another audience with the Marquis," he answered, "Now that Her Majesty is safe. You?"

"I don't know." Not really. Although where she wanted to go was debatable. "Wherever_ Tatah_ and _Amba _want to go, I suppose."

Basch nodded, like it was such a grand thing to take in. Of course her parents wouldn't want to come along with them, who put their troupe in so much danger. Then again, insurgence (as they so insisted) was only as dangerous as sky piracy. She would fit in well with them. The three of them would, he corrected himself.

"Duck!" Fran said suddenly. Vossler and Balthier finally looked away as they bent forward, covering their heads with their hands, and Ashe, Vaan, and Penelo attempted to hide under the control panel with Fran.

"What's happening?" Balthier called out.

"Remora," Fran answered.

"Are they gone?"

Ashe stood from her little hiding place to check. "They passed," she told everyone, surprised.

"Had we gone too fast, they'd have noticed," said Fran, nodding in agreement with Penelo's relieved sigh.

"To Bhujerba, then," Ashe decided. "We will go our separate ways there." Turning to Penelo, she added, "It would be best if you returned home."

"Oh, no," Balthier shook his head, leaning back comfortably. "We're not parting just yet."

"What?" Vossler frowned. "Why not?"

"We expect," the younger man replied, taking up their game once more, "you'll be needing our help again soon. And we just can't find it in our hearts to let you stumble about blindly in this dark,_dangerous_ world."

He doubted that highly, but Basch was too unreasonably satisfied to care.

* * *

Sorry it was so long. Or was it short? I wanted to finish the whole Dreadnought Leviathan experience in one chapter, so...yeah. You get this chapter. For those who are wondering, yes, Balthier did forget that Anya lied to him about knowing who Ashe was in the Garamsythe. He'll remember it later, I'm sure.

I still can't remember what I was going to say before. :(

If anything needs explaining to you, readers, PM me! Or put it in a review. No need to be scared, I'll answer anything as long as it isn't spoilerific. Spoilerificity (word, word, word...) depends with each question (and my answer), so you won't know if your question is spoilerific till you ask. :)

Heheheh, constructive criticism is badly needed and greatly appreciated as always! Or if you don't have criticism or advice for me, at least make yourself known through other than an alert or a favorite (though those I am still very thankful for, of course!). :) Just tell me which parts of the chapter you like the most. I do want to give you readers what you want, as long as it's within my power to give here.

On that note, you'd be super crazy awesome if you reviewed. Yeah, I said it. Super. Crazy. Awesome. Or Superbly wonderful awesome if you don't like being crazy. =o

Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter!


	9. Chapter 8, additional scenes at the end

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

03/26/10 READ: to those who read this before March 26, 2010, pleaaase READ THE CHAPTER AGAIN. :D I added a whole scene towards the end that has people talking. About things. It's important! :):)

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The afternoon shadows had already begun to settle in the Bhujerban Aerodrome when they returned.

He knew, because he could recognize the _shing _of Fran's heels anywhere, and the shine of her armor, too; he'd crafted those himself. That and Balthier's zebra hair and Anya's auburn wig were a dead giveaway.

They walked past the counter he was sitting on as if he wasn't there at all. How could they? And after he'd put up with the annoying remarks from all the noisy women who passed about how cute he was just sitting there like a lost child! Had they forgotten about the time when he had to break them out of a provincial Rozarrian prison _himself_?

He felt his heart crumple at the sight of more of their new companions. Although he had liked that Vaan; the boy knew how to appreciate a good mechanic. The other man with them in the airship earlier...Baatch, was it? Or Ba...something. He wasn't as interesting as Anya seemed to think he was. He was much too quiet. And now there were more of them! Two Moogles, even...! No, wait, they were going somewhere else, now, after waving goodbye to them. Two girls close to Anya's age and one man much older than Balthier exited the hangar with them, stopping only before the docent. The younger girl looked like she wanted to talk to Balthier, but didn't have the courage to. He couldn't blame her. Fran was talking to the man, and when the Viera spoke with him, how could anyone else capture his attention?

He couldn't take it anymore.

Hopping off his seat on the closed counter hidden beside the hangar entrance, Nono rushed to stand before them.

"You know, kupo," he started, hands on his hips as he frowned up at a surprised Balthier, "When you told me you would pretend not to know me for my own safety, I didn't expect you to actually forget me."

"Nono! What are you still doing here?" Anya exclaimed gladly, but upon receiving a shake of the head from Balthier, silenced herself.

Even Vossler and Ashe now stopped to see what was going on. As Balthier regained his composure, he replied, crossing his arms with a similar raise of eyebrow, "You know, when I told you to leave when we failed to return after a day's time, I had expected you to actually listen."

"Oh, I heard you, kupo," said Nono. "But something told me I had to stay on and wait a little bit longer. Aren't you glad I did, hmm, kupo?"

Balthier narrowed his eyes at his mechanic. "Slightly." Only he could see the look Fran gave him. "...Thank you, Nono."

"You're welcome, kupo," said Nono, happy again, and nodded at Fran, Anya, Vaan, and the other blond in acknowledgment. The other three he would have to get to know later. "Good to see you all."

"And you," Fran replied pleasantly. "Have you eaten yet this noon, Nono?"

"Just barely, kupo. Good as the service is, the Aerodrome food is terrible! They cram their fruits all in one little box, and they give me a tiny cup of water because think me a child!"

Balthier reached over and pet his head, the hair holding his pom-pom in between his fingers. Fran watched with much amusement. "If you stopped acting like one, maybe they'd give you a nice little glass," he said, and laughed as Nono gave a huff. "Not to worry, Nono. Why don't you come along today? We'll be having late lunch over at the Marquis's estate. How about it?"

Nono's eyes widened, but remembered not to let the drool come out of his mouth as he imagined all the freshly picked grapes and sliced apples he could get his hands on in that mansion. Sweet mangoes and tangy oranges were his favorite, but they weren't in season in Bhujerba. "Why didn't you say so, kupo? I just have to drop my tools off in the ship, so wait for me!"

Balthier watched him run off. "Splendid."

"Late lunch over at the Marquis' estate?" Ashe repeated. "What are you playing at?"

Balthier smiled. "I'd overheard Basch saying you'd be seeking an audience with the Marquis today, and since we _are_ still aiding you in your time of need, we thought it only fair to invite ourselves to lunch."

Irritated that the pirate was right again, Ashe turned to Basch. "Seeking an audience? Perhaps you forget all that Ondore has wrought."

"I do not forget, Majesty," Basch replied. "It was by his counsel, dangerous though it may have been, that we were able to free you. You must meet with him, your Highness, and give ear to his words. He may act in league with the Empire, but his heart is not."

Anya rolled her eyes the way Ashe could not when Vossler agreed with Basch. Balthier shrugged them all off, though he could still hear them, and turned to Fran. "Do you think--"

"Balthier, your handkerchief. I thought you might want it back," Penelo said all in one breath, holding the neatly folded piece of cloth in her hands as if it was worth so much more than his head. It had taken almost all her courage to get her to step forward, and Balthier saw this.

He had completely forgotten about the little thing already, but he did not act it. Taking the handkerchief carefully, he gave her a charming smile. "I will wear it close to my heart."

Penelo's ears glowed red. Behind her, Vaan squinted his eyes at them without knowing it. Watching them rattled him.

"I'm back, kupo!" Nono declared, and then marched determinedly out of the Aerodrome. "To the Marquis!"

As the rest followed, Ashe looked back to Vossler, who had decided to separate from them to search for a more effective way to regain her kingdom. He probably wanted to get away from Balthier, too, who proved to aggravate him with his very presence. Watching her leave, he waved a temporary goodbye to her.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, Ashe wondered why she had not been a good enough reason for him to stay.

**XIIXIIXII**

Making himself comfortable and walking around the Ondore estate, Vaan stared at its guards reproachfully. He hadn't forgotten the way they dragged him off so violently, even if it was just an act (Fran had explained it to him on the way). Ashe and the Marquis, who turned out to be her uncle, had already spoken: Ashe wanted him to help her fight against the Archadians, but the Marquis said that without proof of her birthright, winning against the Empire wouldn't matter. Vaan guessed the 'proof' was the Stone taken from him earlier that day.

Vaan shook his head. He told himself he wouldn't think about it anymore. All he had to do was redeem himself by helping Ashe do whatever it was she had to do, and it was all on the way to becoming a sky pirate, which would work out well for him...maybe. Since Balthier and the others insisted on tagging along with them (or had he only come along until now for that bath he was talking about?), he had high hopes.

"Vaan!" Penelo appeared beside him, a wide smile on her face. He returned it, happy that she was happy. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Really? I thought you were busy talking to Anya and Nono."

Penelo grinned, elbowing his side. "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Vaan?"

He scoffed. "No. I don't even know how that feels like."

Penelo shrugged it off, too happy to care. "If it matters, after Nono and Anya had their fill of feeding each other grapes and apples and a whole assortment of fruits and tossing me a few, they decided to attend to what they called 'important matters concerning sky piracy' and left. They walked out on the Marquis, too, which was really too bad since he actually allowed them to do what they wanted. He seems like a nice man, don't you think? Marquis Ondore, I mean."

The triumphant look on the Marquis' face when he had them arrested, though fake, was still vivid in Vaan's mind. "You should have seen him before we found you. He wasn't _that_ nice. And he framed Basch, remember?"

"But he didn't have much of a choice, and he had to act that way, for Ashe, right? It's so amazing that she's still alive. Of all the things that could happen to us...I can't believe we've met the princess! And real sky pirates...."

Vaan grinned, glad he wasn't the only one stunned by everything going on around him. Still, he had known the princess and the pirates longer, and liked to, even just in his mind, hold it over Penelo's head. "Yeah. And all this happened _because_ I went out the night of the fete."

"And stole the Stone that would've proved Ashe the real princess, which is why she prefers that we call her without any titles until she can retake Dalmasca," Penelo reminded him. His shoulders sagged. She never let him hold things over her head for too long. "Still..." She looked up to him shyly. "Thanks for coming for me, Vaan."

Scratching his head awkwardly, Vaan looked away. "Hey, it was nothing."

They were alone in the hallway, overcome with the oranges and violets of the afternoon sun breathing through the large, glass windows. Now would be perfect. Penelo leaned forward, slowly extending her arms, when Vaan caught sight of something behind her and began to wave his right arm enthusiastically. "Fran!"

Penelo retreated, her hands returning to her sides. The sun was beginning to set. Vaan continued waving at Fran, who gladly acknowledged him as he fell into step with her. "Where are you going?" he asked her.

"Out," she answered. "To the gardens."

"Oh. You like flowers?"

"I suppose. But the lightning bugs are the most fascinating at night." They were turning right to head for the gardens now, but before they were completely gone, Fran turned her head back to Penelo with the intention of inviting her to come along, now that Vaan had invited himself to her garden stroll.

The girl had already walked away, her head bowed and her shoulders slumped.

Describing Penelo as sad at that very moment wouldn't be right. Stunned, maybe. Yes, shocked would be more accurate. Vaan had never done that to her before. She had done that to him, sometimes, when her girl friends were determined to enjoy a girls-only night under the airship-dotted sky, only to be caught by the Imperials making their rounds, but even then Vaan was always somewhere nearby. He would throw a rock at the soldiers or say something stupid to distract them long enough for her and the girls to run back to the Lowtown, giggling as they went. She had left him many times. But he'd never left _her_, not even when he acted so displeased to have her around; not even to spend time with Kytes.

Penelo shook her head. She was being immature. It was good Vaan was making more friends, and it made sense that he'd want to make friends with a sky pirate. Smiling, Penelo nodded to herself. She was fine. Perfectly fine.

"Ah, just the girl I wanted to see."

Balthier laughed when Penelo jumped almost three feet in the air.

"Balthier!" she gasped, holding her hand over her chest, and then realized what he'd said. "...Really?"

"Why, yes," he said, running his hand back and forth through his wet hair. He was finally able to take that bath he was talking about during the meeting. "I was told you were with Nono and Anya. Have you seen them?"

"Oh." Penelo couldn't help but feel disappointed. "They went to dock the airship at the Marquis's personal hangar. For easier access, they said. Kind of weird how quickly the Marquis allowed it when they asked permission."

Balthier narrowed his eyes. "I can't imagine why..."

"Huh?"

"Ah, nothing." His smooth tone of voice returned as if it had never left. "Have you seen Fran, then, Penelo?"

The girl forgot how that matter had upset her at the sound of her own name. "She went into the gardens," she told him, feeling the blush spread to her ears. "With Vaan."

"With Vaan, eh?" Balthier grinned. "That should be interesting. Care to watch with me?"

Penelo's ears couldn't have burned a brighter red. Some of the boys back in Rabanastre had asked her to accompany them somewhere before, but this was the first time a...a _man_ had. "N-no, it's all right. I think we'll be having dinner soon. I should save some for Vaan in case he takes long. Or make something, if they haven't started yet."

Balthier stared at her ears calculatingly for a second before respecting her decision. "Very well. Have a good evening, Penelo."

"Good evening to you too!" she called out confidently, but only when he was already gone. Penelo rolled her eyes at herself. What was she doing? Her friends were the kind who stuttered and blushed (or whose ears burned, in her case) around the more charming members of the opposite sex, not her! She was known among the teenage girls of the Lowtown for being the only one not to have ever liked Tomaj! Now wasn't the time to start falling all over herself for a man just because he said something nice to her.

Penelo nodded cordially at one of the Marquis' attendants as he drew the curtains closed. The full moon was already on the rise, and the trees and colorful shrubberies outside, though inspiring in the sunlight, were beginning to cast deformed shadows into the halls. The Marquis couldn't have shadows haunting his elegant estate; she could understand that. She couldn't see the fireflies, anyway.

Helping out in the kitchen and preparing dinner for the others was beginning to sound like a great idea when Basch turned up from around the corner, his gaze stretching far beyond her. It really did astound her how casually he could just walk around the estate as though the Marquis hadn't ruined his reputation. Granted, he was under pressure from Vayne, but it still took a lot to forgive something like that. Ashe still wasn't happy with the turn of events, after all. Saving Dalmasca seemed to be the only thing on her mind, and resting and waiting with her uncle upset her even more.

"Hi, Basch!" Penelo greeted, stopping him in his tracks. He let his eyes linger on the quiet hall behind her for another second before he acknowledged her presence. She continued, not yet daunted. "Looking for someone?"

"Ah–no," he lied, and then decided it was a silly idea. "Have you seen...?"

"Seen...who? Ashe? I think she's been in her room since the meeting with the Marquis."

"No, I didn't mean..." Basch paused. "Never mind. Off to dinner already?"

"Actually, I was just on my way to the kitchen...to make something Vaan actually likes, you know. He can be really picky with what's in his food."

Basch smiled kindly.

"What?"

"Vaan is lucky to have you for a friend."

There they went...there they went. Her ears were burning again. "Th-thanks."

Inclining his head slightly, Basch sidestepped her and went on his way.

Penelo rushed behind the corner before rubbing her hands violently against her ears, as though it would return them to their natural color faster. She had never been this counterproductive before. And all because he'd said something nice to her. But as long as no one saw that little weakness, she was still sweet, independent, street savvy ol' Penelo. Without the old.

**XIIXIIXII**

It was cold.

Only the moon illuminated the room, with two beds and two side tables, and two long-unused lamps on each corner near the door.

There were always two; always one for each of them.

Ashe traced her fingers on one of the beds, its sheets scratchy, until they reached its mahogany head rest, asymmetrical and downright unaesthetic. She could feel herself grin as well as her heart break. Rasler had carved this himself, she could never forget, on the summer of his thirteenth birthday. He had actually convinced himself that his skill in wood carving had reached its peak, and that he could craft any bed base as well as any of the other royal carpenters in the land (or sky, as the case had been). Of course, on the summer after that he realized just how badly made the thing actually was, but she and Anastacia had made him swear on his honor as a man and as the crown prince that he would use the bedstand for the rest of his days in Bhujerba. He honored that promise proudly, until the day of their...wedding....

Her eyes stinging, Ashe withdrew her hand from the bed and moved on to the balcony. The evening breeze attempted to whisper words of comfort to her, but she turned away and let them pass her without heed. She could not admire the night in a foreign land until she had seen the dawn for her own kingdom. And she couldn't allow herself to fall back into the arms of another man when she had not yet avenged her husband's death...not that the man would take her in his arms. Ashe cringed at the thought, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

"You would always hide here," said a sad, old voice, accompanied by the knocking of a cane as its owner appeared on the balcony. "And Anastacia could never find you, because their room was the last place she'd ever think to look through."

Ashe did not turn her head.

"You would always go somewhere you could be easily found when young Rasler actually bothered to play seeker, of course," he continued. "And he would go on and on about it when he won, never knowing you had made it so. Do you remember the first time you realized your common love of sword fighting?"

Still no reaction. He sighed.

"You are not the only one who misses them, Ashelia."

Finally, she snapped her head to look at him. "If you truly cared about them, you would act. _Please_, Uncle Halim. You know my father would do the same."

"Your father would have known when and when not to act," he countered calmly. "He would have known when to wait. I am aware that it takes arduous effort, but I must ask you to wait. It is for your own preservation that I do."

Ashe fell silent again, her breathing heavy. "No..." she insisted. "No. Their deaths must not be in vain. Rasler and Anastacia would not have been content to let this pass. They would have acted immediately. You know this!"

"I...would not be so sure of that." Halim slipped a hand into his coat's left pocket, touching a cold length of chain with a finger and pulling it out slowly. Something heavy at the bottom refused to come out of the opening.

Curiosity settled in Ashe's eyes as they glanced from the chain to the Marquis. She asked, "What do you mean?"

Halim had opened his mouth to speak when the door to the room creaked open painfully, as if someone was trying hard to sneak in without being noticed from the outside and failed to consider that there might be people _in_side.

This was the case.

Ashe felt her annoyance flare not at the interruption but at the intrusion–the tainting, even–of the pirate by entering the room. She could see from the balcony that the girl had even dared to look around it so carelessly, like she was on some glorious treasure hunt! Reentering the room, she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Anya jumped back in surprise at seeing Ashelia and the Marquis come in from the wide balcony outside. "Sorry," she blurted, doing a quick about face and leaving. "I was-- I thought-- wrong room."

Her anger dissipating as she watched the pirate go, Ashe breathed. Her eyes returned to the Marquis. "What was it?"

Halim looked thoughtful for a moment before pocketing the chain. "Soon. When we discover why."

**XIIXIIXII**

Penelo couldn't help but thank the gods for the Ondore estate's good ventilation system. Although she didn't doubt that she'd still smell like the kitchen when dinner was over, at least she could still breathe without feeling the need to vomit in the nearest garbage can, and this was despite the fact that there were more than enough cooks here to fill a good restaurant in Rabanastre. Not that she'd ever really been to a good restaurant in Rabanastre; she was pretty sure she was right, though. And they had all been nice enough to allow her her own space to make a small dinner, with a table and her own stockpot!

The cooks were busy with their own duties–something about the handsome pirate man requesting...a lot– so Penelo was left to her own thoughts, and she found herself thinking about Vaan. And Fran, and Balthier, and Basch. Maybe Ashe and Nono and Anya, too. But it was Vaan and Fran, mostly. Her mind was going over the same thing: Vaan leaving her for Fran. Vaan leaving her for a woman. Vaan leaving her for some woman he hadn't even known before the fete night. The night on which she was kidnapped. And she was kidnapped for a few days. Who knew what they could've gone through together in that time? It was long enough for a grand adventure that cemented a deep bond of friendship between them that could never be broken, if the romance novels her girl friends made her read were any indication!

"Hello, Penelo."

"Ow!" Penelo dropped the knife she was using to slice a plump red tomato and sucked the finger she had cut by accident. Utterly humiliated, she glanced up at Fran, who had just sauntered into the kitchen gracefully, though it needn't be said. "O-oh, hi, Fran."

The Viera looked down at her, eyebrows raised. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, it's nothing..." Fran didn't think so, it seemed, as she took Penelo by the hand and chanted a Cure spell to close the wound. Penelo hated asking for help. The world must have turned upside down on the night of the fete, since she was stuck receiving and appreciating a lot of it the past few days. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome," said Fran, and then looked around Penelo's workplace curiously. Penelo didn't miss the way most of the cooks eyed Fran, especially since she was wearing close to nothing, but decided against saying anything to her. She didn't want the Viera thinking she was trying too hard to be friends with her just because she was this tall, classy, elegant woman who could probably have any man– or boy– she wanted. Huh. She wondered how Anya's self-esteem fared against that thought. Then again, Anya was probably used to sharing Nono and Balthier with Fran. No other girl had ever really cared about Vaan's company before.

"Are you looking for carrots?" Penelo groaned inwardly. She couldn't help but hope that they could be friends, and that she could discover and learn to appreciate the mystery behind Fran's allure.

Fran looked down from the cabinet she was searching through. "Carrots?" she repeated in confusion. It was the first time Penelo heard it in her voice. "Why would I desire carrots?"

"I was just wondering..." Penelo turned back to patting lettuce leaves into the white bread on the table.

"Nono has a particular liking for carrots," Fran continued, choosing to ignore whatever it was the girl might have implied. The child seemed frightened of her enough; she seemed to intimidate people wherever she went, Nono, Rinok, and Anya being the only exceptions. "They are the only vegetables he likes."

Her lips pursed, Penelo nodded. She had resolved not to say anything silly like Vaan would anymore. "Oh."

Another long silence reigned over them. Fran was surprised. She did not find it awkward in the least, the way Nono and Anya insisted long silences were, but even Balthier, who enjoyed with her moments when those two were asleep, would have tried to fill this silence. Was her fear this great? She didn't find it necessary. Words could ease this, Fran hoped. "I was searching for milk," she said.

Penelo didn't look up. "We have some in the refrigerator."

Fran grimaced at the magickal ice box. "I prefer warm milk."

"Oh. Sorry. Maybe you could, uh, get the milk from the fridge and then warm it with, uh..." Penelo trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind."

Fran shrugged it off, watching her move on to her bubbling stockpot and dip and leave pieces of meat in it. "What are you making?"

"Before all this happened, I remember Vaan was complaining about having too much fat and not enough muscle. Obviously, we weren't allowed to picky with our food in Rabanastre, so now that the Marquis has kindly opened his kitchen to us, I thought I'd make him something nice and balanced," she said, feeling rather proud of being so thoughtful. Basch was right about Vaan being lucky. She had already opened her mouth when she realized that maybe the reason why men liked Fran so much was because she didn't hound after their attention by making them nice, balanced sandwiches; Penelo decided not to mention any other thing she thought she was proud of. "...So, I'm...I'm just stuffing a whole lot of vegetables into this thing, and some fried cockatrice."

Fran didn't need to move to look over to the stockpot. "That would be the cockatrice?"

Penelo nodded stiffly. "Yep--yes. The coleslaw's almost done, and in a minute I'll start with the cockatrice."

Abandoning her search and nearing Penelo's workstation, Fran stared conspicuously at the sandwich that would soon be nice and balanced. Penelo left her table immediately and poked the cockatrice around in the stockpot with a pair of tongs. Fran decided to keep her distance for the time being and watched the girl from where she stood, asking, "Where did you learn to cook?"

"Our sort-of caretaker in Rabanastre, Migelo--"

"The Bangaa?" Fran thought out loud. "He was very worried about you."

"Yeah, Migelo... He gave me a few books to learn from after my parents passed away since he was really too busy to teach me himself. I just learned, I guess. You know," she continued, forgetting her apprehension for a moment and turning to face Fran, "soup's the most fun thing to make, and it can be really healthy even with our ingredients at home, but Vaan hates having to blow his food. That's why I'm making him a sandwich."

Fran's mouth twitched slightly.

Penelo slapped herself mentally and hung her head, but she didn't apologize. She never apologized for talking too much, and she wasn't going to start now out of intimidation. Fran wouldn't take it against her, would she? Besides, she was Penelo. Not to brag, but everyone sort of liked Penelo.

"I was thinking of how Balthier is just as picky with what he eats," said Fran.

Penelo blinked, laughing slightly. "Balthier? Really? He doesn't seem the type. I imagine him as the kind of guy who would tell Vaan something like..." Clearing her throat, Penelo attempted to lower her voice and said, adding Balthier's smooth accent at the last minute, "'Oh, be quiet and eat what's on your plate, lest you want your next meals in the brig!' You know?"

Fran's mouth twitched again. Penelo thought Fran probably thought she tried too hard when the Viera covered her mouth, and there was an odd ringing in the air, and, returning to her senses, Penelo learned how unalluring the Viera's laughter was. It wasn't off-putting, no, but it certainly didn't sound like the pealing of the great Cathedral's bells the way she'd imagined it to. It was average, and soon Penelo was laughing at how ridiculous she was being.

When Fran recovered from her fit, she smiled down at Penelo. "I see. Nono always wondered what others might think of us."

Guilty, Penelo hushed, but thought that Fran couldn't possibly read her mind. Right? "So...what exactly do you cook for Balthier that he's so picky about?"

Fran shook her head. "It is Nono who makes our meals in the airship, if not Balthier, so that he doesn't complain about what he is eating. He is too prideful to admit that his own cooking is terrible."

"You and Anya don't cook?"

"Odd, isn't it?" Fran wondered as she said it if it were a bad thing. Her three companions never seemed to be bothered by being out of the ordinary. "I have read in your history books that average Hume families are dependent on their women to prepare meals and take care of business around the house. That is not the case with us. Whereas Hume males are expected to make income, Anya and I collect the Gil we need for repairs and other such necessities." Penelo hid her annoyance at being average with a smile. "Although...I should like to learn how to cook Hume meals someday."

Penelo felt the genius come alive in her. "I can teach you," she beamed. "When we have the time, I mean."

Fran replied with a grateful smile; Nono never had the patience to teach anyone to cook. "Thank you, Penelo."

Pride swelled in Penelo's heart as she suppressed a giggle. "Oh, the cockatrice is done!"

Taking the fried cockatrice from the stockpot and draining the oil from the meat with a load of paper towels, Penelo returned to her table and began working on the sandwich. Beyond that point, Fran was unable to comprehend what it was she was doing with or adding to the meal. Could she ever muster anything like this, even with this Hume's help? In her childhood, the Wood provided her with all her needs. There was no need for technology, and the Garif she met afterwards reinforced that belief. It was only with Balthier that she realized she would be unable to survive alone in an environment without wild animals to hunt.

"There." Penelo placed two sandwiches on two clean plates, then carried them delicately on a tray. She was about to clean up when one of the kitchen help arrived, saying it would be terrible if they allowed the Marquis's guests to work during their stay, and insisted that she leave her workplace alone. Having been trained to clean any sort of mess, Penelo fought hard to, until she thought of how Fran would handle the situation. Judging by her imperial disposition, she'd probably say that a lady would graciously agree. So Penelo graciously agreed to it and proudly stepped out of the kitchen with Fran. Maybe Basch would like a sandwich, too.

There he was now, walking as briskly as he could without running across the hall.

With Anya?

"Was that--?"

Fran glanced at the bare sandwiches. "You had better pack those."

**XIIXIIXII**

"Tell me about Princess Anastacia."

Sitting upright, Basch turned his head to the girl lying lazily on the bed across him. He had been searching for Nono for one of the kitchen help– a little Moogle lady who had taken a liking to him– but gave up after almost an hour of failing; thankfully, the Moogle had already found Nono, he was told, when he went to tell her he had failed her. Upon returning to his old room in the estate, he discovered Anya, who had taken the first room she saw after bringing the Strahl to Ondore's personal hangar, but she did say she would leave after a little more rest. With all her yawning, he wasn't sure if he could trust her to.

He wasn't sure if he could trust her to tell him about the others, either, but he went on. Talking about these things did seem to lift her spirits, which he could always use to his advantage. "What is it you want to hear about her?"

"Just tell me about her. And...Rasler. I want to hear about her and Prince Rasler."

"All right." He turned to face her completely and placed his hands on his knees, the way he remembered the old storytellers from his childhood did. "You are aware the Dalmascan and Nabradian royals met here every summer since the Lady Ashe was five?"

"Let's say I do."

Basch nodded. "Lord Rasler disliked the Lady Ashe at once, and very successfully convinced his sister to feel the same. All throughout their childhood, if I remember correctly, they played tricks on her and tried to keep her out of their jokes and games as much as possible."

"No!" Anya gasped, laughing. "Was the situation that terrible?"

"Oh, yes. Only when they reached adolescence did Lord Rasler lose his sister's support, but until then... I remember the two spent an entire evening lacing the Lady Ashe's room with traps, once. They used honey, marbles, feathers, ice cream, and... I forget the other things the mansion help had to clean off of the two after the Lady Ashe had managed to outsmart them. They were forbidden to see each other for a week."

"Faram, that was painf..." The smile dropped from Anya's mouth as she met Basch's eyes. "Pain...that must have been a pain."

"...It was. Vossler managed to escape cleaning duties; I, however, was not quick enough to hide."

Anya thought he certainly didn't seem the type to shirk his duties, but a more important question posed itself before them: "Are you saying you met them even before the ruin of Nabradia? You mean to say you spoke with their Royal Highnesses long before the merger took place?"

"I was there when the union was but a thought," replied Basch, refusing any more questions. "Now it is your turn."

It was frustrating, but Anya conceded. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you feel tantamount to the information I supplied you."

So it was still an exchange. "All right… Don't touch Nono's toolbox or anything in it without permission. He goes rabid at the thought every now and then. _Amba_ likes examining things. People, actually. If she ever watches you and it feels awkward and you want to tell her to mind her own business-- though most people like her attention-- it only means you're interesting. _Tatah_ doesn't like being interrupted, and he never wastes time fighting in small places. In his opinion, the theatrics are better left to times when there is an audience, though what defines an actual audience, I'm not so sure. We landed in a little Rozarrian province once, planning to enter the capital without arousing suspicion, because they don't have Aerodromes in Zarluce, you know, to avoid invasions. There we witnessed the oppression of a group of traveling commoners by a_ Conte _and his private guard. _Tatah_ says he wouldn't have cared if the commotion weren't hindering us from traveling further, but I think he really meant it when he shot the captain's ankle and challenged the _Conte_ to a duel--they like those there."

"The Rozarrians are fond of such things. And did this Count--"

"Oh, there was no need. It's unbelievable, but within that group of commoners was actually the--"

Before she could reveal anyone, there was a knock on the door. Bidding Anya to stay cross-legged on the floor, Basch stood and turned the knob, looking through the small space he'd created between the door and the wall. "Ah...good evening," he mumbled politely.

Anya heard a distinctly accented murmur of 'A word, please. May I?', after which Basch opened the door completely. The Marquis moved to close the door behind him until he spotted her, making her fingers dance on the bed and staring back at him with wide eyes.

Halim glanced back and forth at the two in the room, one standing uncomfortably to the side and the other setting her fingers on the bed to rest. "I see you have made yourselves comfortable." He cleared his throat after an awkward silence. "...Good, good."

"I--I was tired." Anya didn't know why she was fumbling to explain herself, but she was. "Nono fell asleep in the Strahl after we returned and I was unable to find _Amba_ and _Tatah_ to ask where we were staying. I didn't know this was Sir Basch's room. I'm only resting for a while. And leaving afterwards. Yes. Later."

The Marquis nodded slowly. _Sir?_ And she spoke Bhujerban, did she?

"But I won't mind leaving now," she continued, scrambling into her shoes. His presence threw her off, though he was partly why she was here. "If I must. I don't--"

"No need," Halim interrupted, then looked at Basch. "May I have a word?"

"Of course."

"With..." The Marquis glanced down at Anya. "What did you say your name was, child?"

"Anya," she reinforced, "My name is Anya."_ And I am not a child._

"With_ Anya_. I am sorry to intrude, but would you leave us, Captain?"

Anya sent Basch an urgent look, begging him not to leave her, but he was too caught up with his own surprise to recognize it. He bowed wordlessly and exited the room.

Apprehensively, Anya looked up at the Marquis, unaware that he could see through the artificial green of her eyes, past her tan and fake red hair.

Only when he could no longer hear Basch's pacing outside the room did he move. But he stopped, knowing she was a woman now, just as Ashelia, whom he could no longer embrace. "I thought it impossible," he started, the disbelief still in his voice. "Your Archadian friend–father, did you call him?–insisted you had jumped from the Kaff Terrace. I announced instead that you had hung yourself in your room, in order that no pirates would think to seek your body. My own men instead were spent looking below, when...you had never truly left the city."

A deep frown set itself on Anya's face. "Your Excellency?"

"Do not--do not pretend," he said painfully. "I spent a fortune for the last tangible memory of you and your brother."

Anya blinked. "...What?"

"Yes, I considered that, too." The Marquis was rambling now. "It seemed in their power to efface your memory of who you were. I even considered that I was wrong. But it was too much of a coincidence. You look her age. You sit impatiently the same way in my office, and fiddle in the same manner with your clothing, scant as it might be now. And when you entered the room earlier, I knew. Only I knew that hatred. But why did you choose this? I will not ask you to return to us, if that is not your wish. I should have known not to before. I simply ask that you tell me why, Anastacia."

"Would you like to sit down, Your Excellency?" Anya stood and motioned to the bed. "Your strange words are worrying, even for a pirate."

"Must you play?"

"I am not playing," Anya lied, "Marquis."

"Very well. But..." He finally managed to pull out of his pocket the silver chain, a defunct royal crest clinging tightly to it. "Take this. One day you will tire of your games...and you will need help remembering who you are."

"I know who I am."

"In the name of your parents. In Rasler's name. Take it, Anastacia."

The girl glowered. To invoke such things was cheating. "If it will pacify you, Your Excellency." She snatched the pendant. To her surprise, it did not burn her skin. She dropped it in her pocket and turned to leave. "This is merely thanks for funding the _Strahl'_s numerous upgrades two years ago."

Halim sighed. "We mourned your death, Anastacia. Ashelia more so, even to this moment. That must mean something, even for a pirate."

Anastacia struggled to break free, but she, too, knew better now. "Good night, Your Excellency."

Anya slammed the door shut behind her.

**XIIXIIXII**

A gasp. "This is Balthier's ship."

Curse his enhanced hearing.

A sigh. "I'm going to retrieve the Dawn Shard. It's the proof that I need. I know where it's hidden, so I'll..." Oh, it was that princess.

Sometimes Nono liked the noise. When everyone was asleep and he couldn't sleep and Balthier stumbled out of his room to pour himself a glass of milk, he liked it. When everyone left him in Rabanastre for his own safety and he felt all alone and Montblanc would appear out of nowhere and thump his back, laughing about how he was becoming a pet, he appreciated it.

"Are you crazy?" That was Vaan.

When he was trying to get some sleep, however...

"This is something that I have to do!" cried the princess.

It was all shadows now, even outside the hazy confines of the Strahl. He had always been comfortable in the stolen Archadian vessel, even when Balthier first crashed it into the grasslands of Jahara. Stepping into its smoking wreck was like coming home, and finding parts for it and fixing it for the stranger, his destiny.

Head tucked snugly between two pillows, Nono turned in his bed and glared at the door. They were still talking.

"In my line of work, you never know when something like this might come in handy." Nono gasped. Balthier, too?

There was no condoning this. Nono kicked his blankets off and stomped his way to the decorated wall beside Anya's bed, creatively called _our wall_. Snatching one of the daggers that belonged to him, he rubbed his eyes and went to press his ears to the door. Footsteps slammed into the Strahl. Were they secretly having a party without him, using the guise of some sort of mission to keep him uninterested?

"Anya, what..." It was that Basch man. "What happened?"

"I'm trying to concentrate!" Nono recognized Balthier using the voice changer he'd installed a few months ago. Was he pretending to be the princess? With his normal voice, he continued, "I'm leaving you with the Marquis."

"Shushh...shh..." There was a shuffling sound outside, nearer the door. "Quiet." That was Anya. She and Basch were in the entrance hallway, whereas Vaan, the princess, and Balthier were farther away. "Just take it. You must take it."

"This pend... How did you find this? Whence did you take this?" asked Basch. What was _it_? What was _this_?

"You can't!" The princess gasped.

"The Marquis told me to give it to you," replied Anya, defensively. "But you can't tell anyone you have it. Not even the princess."

There was a silence in all the Strahl. Nono sighed in contentment.

"Why?" asked Basch.

"Suppose you kidnap me instead?" asked the princess.

Nono felt his nose flare. Fran advised counting to ten, before, whenever he was feeling savagely furious, so he tried it now. The Humes had ten seconds to quiet down and let him have his sleep, or to build walls thick enough inside the Strahl not to let him hear them go on and on about their problems anymore.

Ten seconds passed. No silence, no new walls. That was quite enough. Nono took a deep breath, opened the door, and screamed, "Will--"

"Oh, hi, Nono." It was Penelo, Vaan's pigtailed friend from Rabanastre. She had the prettiest eyes. "Uh, what's that for?"

"Nono?" Fran came up from behind the young Dalmascan. Nono snapped out of his trance and felt the dagger his little fingers were snaked around.

"A-ah..." He tossed it back into the room and closed the door with a small grin. "Hello, kupo! What are you all doing up so late?"

"Chatting." Fran smiled. "Did we disturb you, Nono? You seem to have been very comfortable in your pajamas before we arrived."

The mechanic blinked, feeling the pillow folds on his furry cheek. Sensing that his breath smelled of sleep, he thanked the gods he was only waist high compared to them. His pajamas were obviously a dead giveaway. He sighed. "Had the others been quieter, Fran, I might've not woken up."

"Hmm, what do you think they're talking about over there?" asked Penelo, motioning to the cockpit.

Fran shook her head. "Let us hear."

Nono gave another sigh. Oh, no matter that they founded Bhujerba. No matter that they created airships, and practically everything else. Nobody listened to Moogles anymore.

"So what_ are_ they talking about, kupo?" he asked, following them to the cockpit. "I couldn't understand them very well. You know how Humes go to and fro from every subject, never able to stick with just one..."

Fran chuckled, "Oh, yes." She and Nono were blissfully ignorant of Penelo's sudden silence. "They speak of...us…kidnapping the princess."

"Kidnapping?" Penelo spoke again. "Where would you take her?"

Leading them into the cockpit, now, Fran shrugged. "This begs only the question: Will you be joining us?"

The rest in the cockpit seemed surprised at their entrance, but Vaan answered in a heartbeat. "What, are you kidding? I don't wanna stick around this place."

No one noticed Nono in his pajamas jumping onto the pilot seat as Penelo rushed to an empty passenger seat. "I'm coming, too!"

"All right then, kupo..." Nono felt energized just watching the Strahl come to life. "Destination, please!"

"The Ogir-Yensa," said Anya, sinking into a comfortable position on her seat and yawning. Barely noticing the curious looks a few of them gave her, she asked, "Any objections?"

Balthier chuckled. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Fran noted silence and many heads shaking. "Then it's settled," she said. "We should leave before the Marquis realizes she's missing. Like proper kidnappers."

"Well, kupo, we aren't exactly new to the trade," Nono slipped, though he was too happy inputting coordinates to notice. When he finished, he sat back, content against the pilot's armrest. "Now, let's all…" he yawned. "Quiet down…as the Strahl takes off."

Balthier looked about himself. Penelo was offering Basch a sandwich while Vaan gave Penelo pointed glances, waiting for his own sandwich. The girl seemed decidedly indifferent to his cause. Fran watched this exchange with obvious interest. Anya was close to snoring in her seat, and her sister--her sister, her sister... The princess had her arms crossed over her chest thoughtfully, her eyes cast downward. The Strahl's great captain realized no one had actually asked his permission to come along.

"Am I running a taxi service?" muttered Balthier.

"Silence!" Nono hissed, and went back to sleep.

**XIIXIIXII**

Twelve minutes later, Balthier turned Nono over in his chair. "He's asleep," he whispered.

Anya immediately straightened up in her seat. The leather squeaked when she stood up and stretched her arms. "Would anyone like something to drink?"

_Taxi service,_ thought Balthier.

Awakened by the squeaking, Basch glanced up at her. "You are not sleeping?"

"Oh, sky pirates always have milk before we sleep."

"How contumacious of you," said Ashe, opening an eye. Inwardly, she laughed at her cleverness. It had been a while since she bantered with anyone. Would the girl reciprocate?

"Thank you." Anya bowed, unruffled. Ashe felt a mite disappointed. Rasler and Anastacia would have flushed with excitement at a challenge. Were sky pirates so seasoned in the world's ways that they were no longer stirred by its challenges? Perhaps that was why they cared not for its people, though they belonged to them, once. Or perhaps she was just too obsessed with saving her country. Did it even want to be saved? Ashe shook her head. What a foolish train of thought. They _needed_ to be saved. She was in no way wrong; the pirates were, in their indifference.

"Do you have chocolate?" Vaan called out, his eyes closed. Penelo hit his arm lightly; he looked on expectantly even after crying out.

"We do," Fran replied. "Although I'm afraid none of us can concoct anything as good as Nono's creation."

Balthier heaved the mechanic up and carried him over his shoulder like an overgrown child. Nono instinctively clung to his neck.

"Are you taking him to his room?" Penelo asked. "Fran said you had two beds in a room. I can room with him," she offered.

"Hey," Vaan frowned. "Then who's staying with me?"

"Scared of being alone in the dark?" joked Anya, who volunteered, "I wouldn't mind."

One look from Balthier told Vaan that was a bad idea.

Vaan looked around. "Okay, how about Fran?"

Also a bad idea.

"Ashe?"

"I don't understand why it has to be a woman," said the princess with an exasperated shake of her head, "but fine."

Balthier shrugged and beckoned to Penelo before stopping in his tracks. His eyes widened again. "Wait..."

Amused with Vaan's choices and certain of the princess' safety with the boy, Basch smiled at Anya. "I suppose that puts us in one room."

"Certainly not," said Balthier, reinforcing his hold on Nono.

Ashe stood up, irate. "I believe we all deserve some rest. If you're bothered enough by these arrangements to pose as a hindrance to that, then we'll have to do with a same sex set-up. I will stay with Penelo. Fran and Anya will share a room, as will Vaan and Basch," she said, looking uncomfortable with the last name. "You will stay with Nono." She looked around the room. "Any objections?"

"Wow," Penelo whispered to the girl beside her. "See how she commands the room? Ashe really is royalty." Anya nodded, pretending to be unaffected.

Balthier frowned. Only he would commandeer this ship.

"None," Fran was the first to answer, and left for her room.

The captain sighed. Nono it was.

Anya shrugged. "I'm still going to the kitchen. Vaan?"

"Yeah," he grinned, and the two raced to the kitchen as if they hadn't been fed in days

Penelo blinked. She was alone again. And Basch and Vaan forgot about their sandwiches on their seats…

Peeking his head out of the kitchen, Vaan waved at her. "Penelo, come on!"

"Penelo," called Ashe before the girl could go, "Last room from the right?" Upon receiving an excited nod of approval, the princess, too, went off to sleep.

"...I should retire as well," said Basch, "Good night, Balthier. Thank you... I suppose."

Balthier pretended not to hear his reluctance. "Our pleasure, captain. Might I suggest a glass of milk before your slumber?"

Basch gave him a wry smile as he looked back. "I shan't be swayed into sky piracy."

Balthier frowned, astounded by the man's awful austerity, when he realized it was a joke. "Ah. Ha," he offered at the last minute, but Basch had already gone.

"A sense of humor," Balthier learned. "Who would have thought...?"

**XIIXIIXII**

"That's not milk," Penelo observed, watching Anya take a small box out of the refrigerator. "That's ice cream."

"_Amba_--Fran, that is-- hates it," laughed Anya. "She prefers warm milk."

"Oh yeah," Penelo recalled.

"How would you know?" asked Vaan, accusingly.

"She happened to tell me earlier this evening," answered Penelo, "while _you_ were off talking to the princess."

Vaan grinned. "Jealous?"

"Doubtful," Anya interjected, and received a pout from the lad.

"But you said–sweep her off–I mean--" Vaan stuttered, remembering her needling in the Lhusu mines, and then, remembering Penelo was absolutely forbidden to ever learn of it, sighed in defeat.

With a raised eyebrow and a wrinkle of her nose, Penelo asked Anya what Vaan was talking about, but the pirate shrugged and continued to feed herself. Vaan came around a second later and had some chocolate ice cream, which was scarce, as only Nono liked the flavor.

"So," Vaan started, still feeling some tension about the previous topic of conversation, "what do you think is going to happen after Ashe gets the other Stone from King Raithwall's tomb?"

"We celebrate," said Anya, naturally.

"What about Archadia? What if they plan something and manage to steal this Stone, too?"

"As long as it isn't your fault," replied Anya, biting her tongue before she could say _again_. The quips were necessary so there was no room for her own hope, but there was no need to be too caustic.

"Aren't you at all bothered that we've managed to stay free till now?" asked Vaan. "What if they're just waiting for us to get the new Stone so they can steal it again?"

"Whatever happens, with Ashe here, we'll restore peace to Dalmasca," said Penelo, very matter-of-factly. "What else?"

Vaan sighed. Did ice cream make girls immature? Right now it seemed like he was the most logical out of them all. "Dalmasca's already peaceful. Most of us don't say anything out of fear, remember? What we--what I want is for Dalmasca to be free. We have to be prepared for what might happen so that nothing gets in the way of that."

"Don't think too hard, Vaan." Penelo smiled. "You'll get a headache."

"But--"

"Hello," said Basch, entering the kitchen. "Ice cream...?"

"Whatever," Vaan grumbled, and left to look for his room.

Basch watched him go. "Did I..."

"No," said Penelo. "He always gets serious like this every once in a while. It's kind of like a girl's monthly...something. Anyway, I should probably go talk to him."

Anya looked up. "Do you need something, Sir Basch?"

"No," he replied, "but I thought you might. Despite technological advances as they are, I believe proficiency with the sword is an invaluable skill."

Anya wondered what his purpose was for bringing it up, but did not disagree. "I suppose...?"

"Then you agree," said Basch, "that one should learn the art of the sword when the opportunity presents itself."

Anya nodded. Perhaps her _Tatah_ had put him up to debating with her, but she refused to partake in this game until she finished her dessert.

"I should like to present you with the opportunity."

Anya blinked. "What?"

"Oh, you're going to teach sword fighting?"

"You are welcome to join us." Basch nodded at Penelo before turning to Anya again. "What do you think?"

"A-all right," answered Anya. If Sir Basch thought they were going to travel together long enough for him to teach her how to use a sword, which she hated, then... She hated swords, Anya reminded herself. She still hated them now, so why couldn't she bring herself to say no? "When do we start?"

"Whenever we rest during our travels," answered Basch. "Vossler and I always readied our troops for battle that way."

"I should think such an activity only diminished their energy."

"It raised their endurance, in fact. Something you two no doubt have, but proficiency with more than one weapon is always advantageous."

"You mean me," said Anya. "Penelo's gone."

"Ah. Yes."

There was a pause as the two looked around the kitchen.

"I should sleep now," Anya muttered, returning the ice cream to the refrigerator and swiftly washing her spoon.

"Of course."

"Good night."

"Good night." Anya walked past him and out the door in a breeze.

Basch didn't realize he had been holding his breath until then.

Anya swerved back inside. "Don't tell _Tatah_."

"…I know."

**XIIXIIXII**

Penelo sighed and slammed the door as she entered her room. She heard a groan from the bed farthest from the door and cringed. "Oh, sorry," she squeaked apologetically. "I forgot I had a roommate."

"It's fine," Ashe grumbled and kicked her blanket off. She wasn't very ladylike, but Penelo supposed being overthrown by the invading empire that killed all your loved ones could do that to even the bluest-blooded. "Are you always like this when you're in a good mood?"

Penelo shook her boots off and sat on her bed. Patting her pillow, she asked, "What makes you think I'm in a good mood?"

"You certainly seemed happy when you left the cockpit."

"That was before Vaan got all upset about Dalmasca."

"Aren't you?"

"I am!" replied Penelo, with more fervor than she had meant to place. Being around the fallen princess did that to her. "I mean, what Dalmascan isn't?"

"Traitors," said Ashe, more hateful than she felt.

"I'm not a traitor," said Penelo, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm just upset that Vaan is upset because he thinks I don't care about the fate of Dalmasca. And I do! We just can't be expressing it all the time, because then how bad are we going to feel _all_ the time?"

"I know you're not a traitor," Ashe said honestly. Her Uncle Halim had told her that she and Vaan were orphans from Lowtown; it was evident from the way they acted and spoke. "But I don't see anything wrong about being upset about the situation our people are in."

"Ashe…" Penelo felt the pressure of Ashe's stare and paused.

"You've given up, haven't you?"

"No…"

"You've accepted your fate in Lowtown," said Ashe, seemingly to herself. "Were your parents slaughtered by the Archadians, as well?"

"How did you—"

"Your parents would have come for you upon learning that you were kidnapped instead of just sending Vaan." Penelo mouthed an 'oh' and lay down on her bed. "How is she?"

Penelo wondered if Ashe was in a state of drowsiness to the point of making no sense. "How is…?"

"Dalmasca."

"Oh," Penelo nodded. "You've seen her for yourself. People are…trying to get along. Some of the Imperials are nice…"

Biting her tongue and raising an eyebrow was all Ashe could do not to explode. "Some of them?"

"Most of them are jerks," Penelo admitted. "But what can anyone do? The moment we try to stand up, they shove us down. The way they did my parents…and Reks."

"Reks? Was that your…lover?"

"Oh, no," Penelo blushed, remembering mournfully that Reks was handsome. Vaan, she realized, was beginning to grow into the adjective, but she kept it to herself. "He was Vaan's brother. He was…he was the witness to King…King Raminas's death. He died shortly after they brought him back to Rabanastre."

"Reks," Ashe repeated. "Was he of sound mind? Did his eyesight ever fail him?"

"After he enlisted, we never really heard from him again until…" Penelo trailed off, knowing full well where the conversation was going. Vaan had already told her all about it on the way back to Bhujerba from the Dreadnought Leviathan. "Vaan…Vaan seems to have forgiven Basch, though. In my opinion, he doesn't look like the kind of person to betray his kingdom."

Ashe frowned. "Opinions have never quite figured into the truth."

"Okay…" Penelo backed off. It was clear to her that the princess was not ready to hear opinions opposing her own, so she turned the night light off and turned her back on Ashe. "Good night, then."

Ashe breathed deeply, but gave no apologies. The girl had to know her place. "Good night."

Hostility was only one-sided in the other rooms, though Fran and Anya slept peacefully in theirs. Basch wasn't sure, but he thought Vaan had mumbled something angrily at him before falling asleep with half of his body on the floor. The former captain pitied him and pulled him to sleep on the bed, only to be backhanded by the boy when he turned over violently and grumbled about 'bucketheads' in his sleep. When he returned to his own bed, deciding not to help any more than he had, Vaan began to snore. The sound was soft, at first, even soothing, like the rumbling of a great Wyrm's stomach, until it grew and multiplied into disturbing, loud wheezes; Basch would have liked to knock Vaan out to keep him unconscious and silent, but knew it was simply not the right thing to do. Balthier had the same problem with Nono, though he was more afflicted by the thought of how Fran and Anya would react to such a thing.

The two men slept only five hours before they arrived at the Ogir-Yensa.

* * *

So...yeah. Those were the new scenes, haha. Just to show how the rest of the cast interacts with each other. I like interactions among Ashe, Vaan, and Penelo in particular, because the difference between how they see the world is so different despite the fact that Ashe is only two years older than Vaan, and three than Penelo.

Concrit (through review or PM) badly needed and greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading! :)


	10. Chapter 9

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

Still alive! Today we ride into the Ogir-Yensa and the Nam-Yensa! **Note** that I didn't exactly follow the game in that I made up and disregarded some locations in the Sandseas. I twisted the Urutan-Yensa sidequest here, too; the Urutan-Yensa are a lot more involved in the story for this chapter than in the game (you'll see).

**ALSO (READ THIIIIIS),** to those who read the previous chapter **BEFORE** March 26, 2010, **please go back** and read it again :D I added a few more scenes somewhat crucial to understanding this chapter. Lots more interaction with the rest of the cast, too. :)

Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

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* * *

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**Chapter 9**

The three young Dalmascans felt much more pleasant the next day; Penelo was spoken with again and all was well. The same could not be said of Basch and Balthier, however, whose eye bags were a bit heavier than usual. The latter's disposition was less than its expected smug while the former was only a little less kind that morning.

"Do you feel, as I do, that they played some game without us last night?" Anya whispered to Fran as they left the _Strahl_, wiping the sweat that had already formed over her nose. It took eight months of inwardly screaming and wailing to get used to, but she was able to refrain from scratching under her wig.

The Viera nodded, squinting her eyes at the vast expanse of sand before them. It blinded and deafened her; there seemed to be nothing in sight but sand, and sand, and sand, and there was nothing to hear but the wind blowing the desert over itself, folding and flowing, folding and flowing. She thought she saw a red construction site in the distance. The sweltering haze of the morning sun was already beginning to take its toll on her, but she made no mention of it. "It is better to meddle with the inebriated than with a sleep-deprived man."

"Oh?"

"Yes, from what I could gather from an old journal in the Margrace family library," said Fran. "I believe it was written by the emperor's grandfather."

"He must have been a wise man," replied Anya, watching Balthier sigh at Vaan in exasperation before she gasped. "You went to Zarluce without me?"

"No, we stole into the castle when you chose to stay in the Mezzol province. Remember?"

"Ah, yes, they were having a festival then–"

"Whoa!" the non-sky pirates gasped, watching the_ Strahl_ fade from sight as if it had all been a mirage.

"Nono isn't coming with us?" asked Penelo.

"He must watch the_ Strahl_," replied Fran, "and notify our associates if we fail to rendezvous on the agreed time."

Ashe glanced at Balthier, who cracked his knuckles and stretched his back. "This come in handy often?"

"It's tough being popular," he explained. "Wouldn't want admirers dropping in while we're away. Well, now, that's as far as she goes. We'll be in Jagd from here onwards."

"Across the Sandsea," Ashe sighed, blocking out the sound of Vaan explaining the nature of Jagd stones to her younger roommate, "to the Valley of the Dead. And to Raithwall's Tomb below."

"Fun for the whole family, I'm sure," muttered Balthier. Fran stifled a chuckle at him and at Penelo and Vaan, whose banter everyone had stopped to find entertainment in.

"Confess it, I'm smarter than you!" laughed Penelo.

"Oh yeah?" Vaan frowned. "Wanna see what they think about it?"

"I wouldn't be so confident!"

Ashe groaned. Fran pat her shoulder lightly. "You will grow accustomed to it."

"Must I?"

"I would think so," chuckled Balthier, beginning for the Sandsea. "It's your sanity at stake."

The trek from the end of the Dalmascan Westersand to the real beginning of the Ogir-Yensa took three hours. There were no rest stops, and Vaan was permitted to drink from the water canisters only once despite his subtle hints about dying of thirst. In order to preserve their energy and water supply, no one spoke any more throughout the journey. Before noon set in, they came upon an industrial area spanning the rocky entirety of the sandsea, teetering on the edge of the moving sand, folding and flowing.

Vaan stopped before the bank and knelt forward. "Look," he said to Anya, who had followed him. "The sand is kind of like…sparkling water. Or a kind of…sparkling juice. Or pudding."

Anya crouched down beside him and watched him feel the sand in his fingers. "Stamina," she said, "is necessary for any sort of game." She slapped Vaan's hand downward when he tried to drink the sand and gave him the canister she was responsible for. "Have some water, but don't tell _Tatah_ I gave you any. He's a bit paranoid about drinking it; thinks we should only do it after battles and important meals. We ran out of water on a mission before and didn't drink for a day and a half. He doesn't want it to happen again, you'll underst–"

"Vaan? Anya?" Penelo called out. Vaan drank as fast as he could and fumbled to strap the canister to Anya's waist.

"Here!" Anya jumped and waved an arm at the others, who had been resting behind a rock for shade. Penelo and Basch approached them. "We were admiring the Sandsea," said the pirate. "It looks even more beautiful down here than it does in the sky."

"It's your first time here, too?" asked Penelo.

"Papa brought me here, once," replied Anya, "my real father, I mean...and he was a worker. But I never really looked until now."

Penelo nodded. "My parents always worked within the city. It must have been exciting! But I bet you were all crammed into a small airship, like most buses for work."

Anya agreed wordlessly, though Basch wasn't as complaisant. "On the contrary. Nabradia was known for its good working conditions. It was a rich kingdom, able to afford to transport its workers in large airships. Often, it lent Dalmasca its resources."

"Oh. So…" Penelo scanned the area and took interest in the tall red structures beyond the sand. _We'll pass there soon_, she thought. "Where exactly is Raithwall's Tomb?"

"Far to the west," Basch answered. "We must first cross the Ogir-Yensa, and beyond that the Nam-Yensa, before we reach the Tomb. An expanse of land larger still than all of Dalmasca. We must pace ourselves. If you grow tired, we stop and take rest."

"That wasn't what Balthier said before," Vaan interjected, pretending still to be dying of thirst.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Penelo grinned, inwardly triumphant that she was no longer embarrassed to be around Basch. "I'm tougher than I look."

Basch chuckled at Vaan's embarrassed expression and replied, "You are at that."

Penelo blushed slightly. Inwardly, she shook her fist at the genuine smiles and mischievous grins she would spot from the men in the party, wondering why she had to discover only now that men who supposedly belonged in dungeons were actually kind and handsome and could sweep her off her feet at any moment they so chose.

"Stamina," Anya repeated, pretending not to notice the pink on Penelo's cheeks. She watched Basch for a reaction to them and found nothing but confusion. Fran_ did_ say men were daft one way or another. She supposed this was Sir Basch's weakness. "First rule of sky piracy."

Basch's eyebrows furrowed. "I had thought it was _don't get caught_."

"…How did you know that?"

"Common sense," said Vaan, "obviously."

"All right, that's enough rest," said Balthier, walking past them and clapping his hands hurriedly. "We're not sure when we'll reach Raithwall's Tomb. Don't waste your energy talking about nothing."

"Second rule," said Anya, following her _Tatah_, "Quiet, or Balthier will bite your head off."

Vaan blinked. "Do all sky pirates follow that rule?"

Penelo burst into giggles, pulling her gullible best friend along by the arm. "Let's move, mister sky pirate."

As she predicted, their party encountered the red structures after half an hour of walking. Large in diameter, they were cylindrical, with walkways around and connecting them only 12 feet wide, minus the space occupied by the empty crates and barrels that littered the area. It was faint, but the smell of gas clung to the metal surfaces around them.

"Ugh." Vaan pinched his nose after a few more minutes. A set of machines of irregular structure rose along their right. The smell, growing stronger as they grew close to the large building containing them, was starting to put a bad taste in his mouth. "Is it coming from that place? This stench wasn't there before."

"It is a construct," Basch explained, glad to finally speak. He was predisposed to silence, but keeping quiet when he was told to was harder than he had expected. "To draw oil from the ground. Abandoned many years now, it seems."

"Did Dalmascans build this?"

"No. The Rozarrians," said Basch, and though there seemed to be no resentment towards them in his voice, his face soured a little. "Their Empire lies far to the west, ever at war with Archadia. Heedless of the kingdoms caught in their midst. Dalmasca…Nabradia…Landis."

Affected by the solemnity in his voice, no one dared speak, and all made themselves scarce.

"'Tis the small craft's fate: To watch the list of galleons and pray for light winds."

"Vossler!" Basch turned, smiling though in surprise, as it seemed his second nature, to an old friend. "Why are you here?"

He returned it wryly. "Imagine my surprise when, upon my return to Bhujerba, I find both you and the Lady Ashe have vanished. I thought you above consorting with Sky Pirates."

The smile fell from Basch's face.

"Look who's here," said Anya, spotting Vossler when he approached Basch. "I'd wondered if he would catch on."

"Miss him?" Balthier studied her face.

"The way we all miss the Ba'gangsaw, I am certain," said Fran, her ears twitching. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Balthier with an uncertain expression. "Basch…believes you are a man worthy of his trust."

The pirate looked shocked, too, before he replaced it with well-earned conceit. "You act as if it ill-placed. What do you think?"

Fran could not reply. A worse stink had invaded her senses. It was not so much rot as it was death; it was the sun, the desert, and animal, and fury. She could not hear footfalls or hooves but whiplashes in the air, into the sand, and up into the air again. Whatever was coming was sentient and consciously angry, evidenced by furious outcries in the distance, and whoever was with her was in danger.

Balthier placed a hand over hers, knowing her uneasiness. "Fran?"

"We should leave this place," she whispered, so the others would not hear.

"Let me guess: a sandstorm?" asked Balthier, though he already knew he was wrong. They had braved sandstorms before, and a little rash could never distract her this way.

"Something far worse."

"Captain Vossler, too?" Leaning against the wall beside Vaan, Penelo watched Ashe's eyes light up at the sight of the elder Captain. "Who else have you met, huh? Everyone we thought was dead…"

"The Marquis is Prince Rasler compared to that guy," Vaan muttered in reply. "He knew Reks."

"How does that make you compare the Marquis to Prince Rasler?" Penelo laughed. "They said Prince Rasler was the handsomest prince to ever exist in the Nabradian line, and second in kindness only to his father. You saying that is like saying Vossler is an evil mastermind plotting to betray us."

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying he could lighten up a little. It's not like we don't want to save Dalmasca, either. And he's so mistrustful of Fran and the others."

Penelo took great interest in the men once adulated as heroes before her, so only a statement like that from Vaan could make her tear her eyes away. "You're mad because he doesn't like Fran?"

"_No_," said Vaan, puffing up defensively, "he doesn't trust Fran, Balthier, and Anya because they're sky pirates. I mean, haven't they helped us this far? They didn't trade us off for their freedom in that Judge's hands, and I _know _they're not going to do it soon."

"…Don't you think you're putting your trust in them much too soon? Don't get me wrong…" Penelo thought of Fran and Anya, who seemed nice enough, and Balthier and his charm. "I like them. They're nice to us. But they're still sky pirates, and you saw that one room of theirs. It's full of things that you know don't belong to them. And didn't you tell me that they tried to take the Dawn Shard from you just a few nights ago?"

"A lot of stuff's happened since then," said Vaan, frowning. "You don't know them like I do." The Dalmascans and the pirates came together in a clump. Balthier was saying something urgent. "Come on, something's happening."

"_Nobody_ knows them," muttered Penelo, but followed still.

"Looks like we've attracted the wrong sort of attention," Balthier announced, breaking into a sprint. "Let's quit this place while we still can. Move!"

They were too slow; or perhaps it could be said that the obedient Yensa were too swift. Their masters knew their way around the oil rigs perfectly and navigated through the red labyrinth with such ease that Balthier, ahead of the party, had subconsciously begun to slow down in defeat. In a matter of minutes, the Urutan-Yensa fell upon the party. At this point they scattered, Balthier, Fran and Vaan continuing forward, Basch and Anya backed into a dead end with Penelo behind them, and Vossler and Ashe, left behind.

"They are weak," Vossler was able to shout before an arrow went through his shoulder. "They should be!"

"Vossler!" Ashe rushed to stand in the way of the Urutan with a sword over his head. She struck it down, but two more came in its place. With a flick of its tail, the dead Urutan's Yensa sharply cut her skin. The princess did not cry out. "Stay back!"

"Run, Lady Ashe," said Vossler, pulling the arrow from his body. Recovering, he attacked the Yensa that dared touch the Dalmascan princess, only for his sword to bounce back against its teeth. "It seems the pirates have left even their own for their safety, but you will find a true ally in Basch. Go!"

"Not now, Vossler," said Ashe, attacking an Urutan's face with her elbow. She felt part of her skin scrape off, but knew not to dwell on it and readied herself for what looked like an endless supply of enemies. "You cannot leave me now."

The man looked struck for a third of a second before he regained his momentum. "Your courage is admirable, Lady Ashe, but let it not be said that the rightful Queen of Dalmasca died in an Urutan ambush. Please, run!"

_It isn't courage that drives me_, thought Ashe, and disobeyed Vossler's wishes. Before he could make another plea, a harsh red light came out from the west, crying out and roaring as it floated towards them.

The fighting stopped for a moment to let eyes widen. Casting Cura on Anya and Basch, Penelo shielded her eyes. "What is that?"

"It looks familiar," said Basch, who recognized the hollow sphere raging at them with snapping jaws. "A Bomb…!"

"Wrong," said Balthier, closest to the monster. He, Fran and Vaan had returned with the beast, running for their lives. "A Pineapple – a more vicious strain of our old friend – courtesy of yours truly…and company!"

"I've noticed something," shouted Anya, balancing herself on the narrow railing and spinning around a post to land behind her Urutan attacker. Before she could pierce it with her dagger, its Yensa caught her and rendered her unable to continue.

"They're always after me!" Vaan finished for her, jumping forward and landing on his elbows, barely missing the flames aimed for his pale head of hair.

"Don't flatter yourself," Balthier scoffed, his face just as close to the floor. When there were no more attempts on his life, he turned over and sighed in relief. He had read before that the Urutan-Yensa were fond of casting spells, especially during their ambushes. Somewhere in the battle, an Urutan had done just that, and the Pineapple's rage flared at their race, searching for whoever it might have been. It ignored its long-legged prey for the grey crustaceans in their midst.

Pushing himself up and pulling Fran to her feet, Balthier straightened his clothes out. "All of you, come! The lords of the Sandsea can deal with their new subject on their own."

The party escaped thanks to the wayward pirates, but Vossler refused to eat his words.

Noon came and passed without much delay to their travels. They stopped for only fifteen minutes to eat and then set off again, and there was nothing to do but think and reflect for the next two hours. Balthier thought lunch was too salty; he would take it up with Nono when they returned. Fran thought of hunting, but realized it would attract the Urutan-Yensa and settled for what they had in the pack Basch now carried. Basch was fine with carrying everyone's things, but found himself wanting someone to talk with. Anya thought of dead men. Vossler thought of Dalmasca and where his heart lay inside it. Ashe wondered whose her heart was, if she even had the right to give it away. Penelo prayed for their friends back in Rabanastre, and Vaan realized there was a lot more sand in the world than he had ever imagined.

Vaan's eyes grew accustomed to the sand and the smell of gas in the oil rigs in those two hours. Instead of growing tired, he became alert and was the first to notice a brown figure in the near distance ahead of them. "Urutan-Yensa!" he cried.

The others drew their weapons. Watching the figure come closer on its Yensa, Fran breathed. "It is alone with its pet," she said. "There seem to be none of its kind anywhere near us."

"It could be an ambush," said Vossler, who had just recovered thanks to Penelo's efforts.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Balthier addressed him directly for the first time that day. "It's alone. Either it's a fool or it means no harm."

The rest considered these words but kept their guards up as the Urutan approached slowly, bobbing up and down upon the sand on its Yensa as if flowing to a soft lullaby. Once five meters from them, it hopped off its Yensa, who stood watch of its position, and hobbled over to the eight with its rough little hands raised in surrender.

Fran stepped forward to meet it. "We take no prisoners," she said to it. "We do not deem it wise to involve ourselves in the affairs of your race."

Ashe was surprised. "You can understand those things?"

"Every other race can," Balthier replied. "Humes are the exception, though one shouldn't be too shocked. We can barely even hear amongst ourselves."

The Urutan let its shoulders slump, but it did not lose its determination. Reminiscent of bad radio reception, a crackling sound came out of its mouth. It took the others a few moments to realize that was its voice. It pointed to the others before turning back to Fran and putting its hands together pleadingly.

"What does it want?" asked Penelo.

"He asks us for help," said Fran. "An old enemy of his race has begun to attack, and he fears it will be the end of them if it is not dealt with immediately." The men in the party thought something of that race dying out completely, but said nothing out of respect for the women. Fran glanced at the others. "Well?"

"You said it yourself," replied Vossler. "It isn't wise to dabble in their affairs."

"But…" Penelo was meek against the former Captain, but continued. "It's the first time anyone's ever asked for our help. Balthier said they were extremely prideful. It must have taken a lot of swallowing it to come to us and ask for help."

"This isn't a matter of pride." Vossler frowned. "It is a matter of time. You would let your countrymen suffer longer for an _Urutan-Yensa_?"

"Hey!" Vaan stepped forward, giving Vossler a glare. He must have been a good Captain before, but that was no reason or excuse to act that way with _his _best friend. "Don't…snap at her. Even if they did just try to kill us."

"There is that," said Balthier to the Urutan-Yensa, shrugging. "Humans don't take to protecting those who've made an attempt on their lives, least of all us. The desert heat isn't as bad as you think yet."

The Urutan-Yensa sighed. Basch remembered his first nights in Dalmasca, when a kind Moogle couple had allowed him a place to stay in exchange for working in their stables. The desert lurker's sigh had sounded like a snoring Chocobo. He smiled to himself before listening to Fran's translation.

"There is treasure involved."

Vossler's face took on disgust. "And I suppose that should change things?"

Fran nodded at the Urutan-Yensa as Anya gave a mechanical 'we accept.' Balthier smirked. "Indeed it does."

"You're joking–!"

"They aren't," Basch warned his old friend. Anya would have looked ashamed, if it were not for Balthier's presence. "You forget it is their way."

"I do not," scoffed Vossler. "We release ourselves from each other here, then."

"We stay," Ashe spoke, painfully. "You forget we have no supplies."

"Ah, to rely on the kindness of others," Balthier chuckled, ignoring the frustration that flashed across Vossler's face. "Now," he said to their little client, "lead the way."

A little more than half an hour later, the Urutan led them to a clearing in the desert where the oil rig stopped temporarily. There were Urutan corpses all over, some only partly and some almost completely buried in the sand. At least ten more Urutan-Yensa still stood – with much trouble, against a titantoise that deflected the Urutan-Yensa's strong magic effortlessly. Basch tried not to think of what seemed to be shackles on its ankles. Its shell was a smooth emerald, Fran would later note and lament over being unable to collect. Vaan exclaimed that its head reminded him of a lion shocked, and then quickly frozen, leaving Penelo to ask where he had ever seen something like _that_.

The Urutan-Yensa looked extremely relieved, and the battle ended almost immediately. The Dalmascans had taken to attacking the exposed limbs of what the Urutan-Yensa called the "Urutan-Eater"; the older Captain was dismayed to find, as his old comrade had earlier, that the pirates were one step ahead of them. Anya stood back with Penelo, ready to heal whichever ally might need it, while Balthier propelled Fran into the air. The Viera landed exactly where she straddled the titantoise's neck with her legs to keep balanced, then, taking some detached steel bowstring from her back, strangled the monster till it fell to its knees.

As its friends slowly gathered round the monster, the Urutan appeared with four Bull Yensa and promised Fran she would receive their reward later.

Vossler sneered at Balthier. "That simply won't do, will it?"

"Nonsense," said Balthier, grinning at the Urutan-Yensa for the sake of his pride. "Our client trusted us; a rare occurrence. We will wait until he can repay us."

"He says he will meet us in the Nam-Yensa," Fran continued. "For now, we must go as far as we can with these Bull Yensa, which can carry two non-Urutan each."

Ashe smiled at the Urutan with genuine gratitude; the Bull Yensa would be a great help. She had said nothing, but her feet were extremely sore. "Thank you."

**XIIXIIXII**

_The natural breeze did wonders for his disposition; he liked to think the nauseating medicine did not. His lower torso was extremely itchy._

_The airship had crashed only fifty meters from Kadalu's tribe, in a clearing where the Garif harvested most of their wares. He had considered crashing into the Garif tribe itself, he remembered, only to remember at the last minute that he had the right to take no life but his own. The elder Solidor brothers taught him this in the small time they had lived to be his friends. Perhaps they should have taught their younger brother, first._

_Avoiding the half-curious, half-suspicious stares of the Garif as he passed them, Balthier temporarily left the safety of the tribe and trekked toward the airship. He had no reason to worry, he knew; Kadalu informed him of the monsters' apparent dispersion upon hearing the Hume scrap metal – as he called it – collide with the earth beneath them._

_He flinched upon reaching the crash site. The airship's stabilizers had bent, the protective covering of the cockpit had shattered, and one of its glossairs had broken off completely. He had thought of walking toward it slowly and then falling to his knees to let out a long, dramatic wail even when there was no one to see his realistic theatrics, but when he saw Fran, he buried the plan in his mind forever. She was inspecting where the detached glossair should have been. As he approached her, he realized she was speaking with someone out of his line of view._

_"I do not think it actually has anything to do with stars, Nono," said Fran absent-mindedly, her hands inside the ship._

_"Are you sure, kupo? Because I hear that when one finds something incredibly interesting or worthy of praise, one exclaims, '_Astral!_' This may be explained, kupo, by the fact that the stars are beautiful, and so upon comparing whatever one likes with the stars, he's actually praising it! I hear that's what the kids are all about these days, kupo. Really!" said the voice behind the airship. Balthier chuckled. A Moogle discussing the localisms of the Dalmascan youth?_

_"Then it is fortunate you are not a child," Fran replied. "Or you would be subject to saying such nonsense."_

_"Well, kupo," said the Moogle Nono, bashfully, "I don't think it's that bad…it's a bit fun to say, kupo. _Astral…how astra_–aaaaaaaaahhh! The Archadian!"_

_Balthier stopped, his eyes widening in surprise, and watched Nono wildly flail his arms in the air as he raced back to the Garif tribe upon seeing him. Fran seemed unaffected, except for the sigh that escaped her lips. She glanced at him, looking much less accommodating than she had when he first awoke._

_"Is there something you want?" she asked impatiently._

_Her alluring accent made Balthier think for a moment. "You see, I wanted to…" He panicked and allowed his eyes to travel to her hands on the ship. He stifled a gasp at the blood dripping down her arm from her torn fingers. "…heal you, I suppose?" He came closer and began to chant the spell for Curaga, only to have her cast it on herself._

_"Done," she said. "Is there anything else?"_

_Balthier – and whoever he was before – had never been given the opportunity to be speechless until then. He was in no condition to work on the airship himself, so in implying that his presence was useless there, the Viera was correct. He stood there in silence for a few minutes, marveling at her ability to stump him and his own inability to carry a decent conversation with this mysterious creature._

_"Are you daft?" Fran finally asked. He wasn't surprised. _

_"Not normally, no," he answered, giving her a smile he hoped would redeem his previous blunders._

_The Viera didn't catch the humor and frowned. "You forgot to let your wings extend fully and properly before going into hyperspeed. How did you expect to fly without wings?"_

The party stopped to rest in the oil rigs that evening, agreeing to stay in only one set of connected structures so as not to have a repeat performance of that afternoon. Vossler insisted that they stay in only one cylindrical post, likely with the intention to keep an eye on all of them, but was ultimately unable to stop the pirates from exploring the buildings as they pleased.

"Curaga," whispered Balthier, Fran's hands in his own. A shimmering white light from him traveled to her bruised and chafing palms, the blood still drying from her encounter with the Urutan Eater. The steel bowstring dug deep into her skin when she had strangled the monster. Once her skin returned to its natural color and the gashes disappeared, Balthier put his lips to her hands. "You did it all by yourself. Forgive me."

Fran laughed. "We have grown too soft, Balthier." She did not miss the embarrassment that flashed across her partner's face and smiled. Stroking his cheek, she continued, "But your concern is much appreciated."

Balthier couldn't help but chuckle along. "Why do you laugh?"

"You had been worried to the point," Fran explained, "that you almost allowed Basch to share a Bull Yensa with Anya. And…I remembered it took you and Nono three months to grow accustomed to each other's presence. He would scream at the sight of you the entire first week."

Balthier understood her mirth, now, and stopped only to watch her. "I often wonder why you do not leave us."

"Balthier, I could–"

"_Locke_!" came Vaan's laughter. Fran had heard it nearing them, but she didn't imagine the boy would actually pass them. He stopped right before them, though he didn't seem to be aware of their presence, and waved Anya's dagger in the direction whence he came. "You named your dagger _Locke_! Hahahahaha!" He ran on as he heard thundering steps and a wild outcry.

"Vaan!" It was Anya, running onto the post after him, her nose red and her expression, furious. She stopped before her comrades, too, and ignored them just as well. "I promise to skin you and guillotine you myself if _Locke_ is not in my hands when I finish counting to twenty!" She ran on when his cackling continued to distance itself from her.

Balthier shook his head. "I thought she'd named it after Nono's sister."

"She did, for free Chocobo rides," said Fran. "Nono understands. The dagger is only _Gurdy_ when Gurdy is around."

"Ah…you were saying?"

"Wait." Fran looked over her shoulder. "There is one more."

Basch jogged in after the two pickpockets. "Vaan, Anya!" he called out patiently. "I have finished making dinner. Penelo, Vossler, and the Lady Ashe have already begun to eat. Won't you return?"

"You're too late," said Balthier, wondering if they had become invisible somehow. "They've already gone further."

"Hello," said Basch, hiding his surprise at their sudden appearance. "Dinner is ready."

"So we heard," said Fran.

Balthier watched the man nod and begin to walk off. "I'd leave them if I were you," he called after him.

Basch glanced back at him doubtfully. "You would do such a thing?"

"They are not children, though they act it," Fran agreed with her partner. "It will not be the first time they have had nothing to eat for supper."

Basch was inclined to give that statement some thought; later. "Not tonight," he resolved, and finally left the two to themselves.

"He fights, he babysits, _and_ he can cook," Balthier noted. "Is there anything Captain Basch can't do?"

Fran smirked. "Do you feel envy?"

"Fran, please."

**XIIXIIXII**

Basch awoke to the deafening black of the Sandsea. When his eyes and ears grew accustomed to it, he looked over to the Magicite they had used to conjure fire. Vaan lay closest to it, his hands over his face, as if that would muffle his loud snoring. The boy must have fallen asleep during his shift.

"Fira," he cast, quietly, then cast a look over the party lying around the Magicite in a circle. Beside Vaan, Penelo felt the magickal warmth and inched closer to her childhood friend. Vossler slept with a hand to the hilt of his sword, ever wary, and Ashe with her hand to her heart. Both looked distressed, even in this momentary repose. Fran and Balthier slept facing each other; the night concealed the Viera's hand on her partner's arm. He was surprised not to see Nono in between him and Fran. They hadn't traveled together much, but he had come to see the Moogle as part of their company already. He seemed to be missing someone, but he was so caught up in keeping his eyes open that he couldn't remember.

_"Oh, sky pirates always have milk before we sleep."_

Basch's eyes shot open. _Anya._ No wonder there was an empty space beside him. Did she run away? She had no reason to and no resources to depend on; her "parents" were here, and her sack, too. Perhaps she was sleep-walking?

Basch was fully awake now. Sleep-walking in Urutan-Yensa territory more than twenty feet from the ground – in the evening – could be classified as anything but safe. Standing, he realized he knew not where to start, but chose to track back. In the case that Anya wasn't sleepwalking and was actually traipsing around the Ogir-Yensa in the middle of the night for some reason, she wouldn't go into territory she hadn't already mapped in her mind. He wouldn't, at least.

As the former Captain went on and there was naught but the wind's easy howl and the sand rolling as waves, part of him wished it was Vaan who had sleep-walked instead; the boy would have been much easier to find (or hear). Later he began to hear light _thud_s, the first of which caused him to jump. Basch was not inclined to believe in ghosts, but there was no scarcity in myths about the oil rigs of the sandseas and how the spirits of the territorial Urutan-Yensa's victims were unable to leave the site of their deaths. He brushed the thoughts from his mind, yet still shuddered, and was extremely relieved to realize that the dull sounds he was hearing came from an elevated, open area directly west from where he stood.

He started stealthily for the sound, his sword readily unsheathed. Just in case, he struggled to remember the incantation to the Holy spell.

There was no need for either. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he found – to his relief or dismay, he hadn't yet decided – a girl. She was dancing. He recognized the ballet she performed in her turns and short jumps; his mother used to dance some of it, and it was popular with the Dalmascan and Nabradian masses. And then he realized, upon narrowing his eyes further and hiding behind the barrels that blocked most of the view she would have of him, that the girl was Anya.

She danced with her eyes closed, and instead of her sandals she wore worn out technique shoes. Even then her pointework was amazing and her pirouette, breathtaking. She turned, changed positions, and extended herself past what he thought was the Hume limit; all with perfect grace, poise, and form, ethereal qualities she showed some of in the day, but usually denied complete possession of.

It was odd. Basch had seen how she could be caring and passionate when they were not in the company of her "parents", but he had also thought her long, wavy red hair and her magickally-induced eyes detracted from her overall appearance. He was utterly overwhelmed, then, with the conclusion _something_ in his mind seemed to have formed without his permission: Anya was – perhaps not entirely physically so, because he could never read into her eyes, and he hated that, but she was – beautiful. He would become a traitor before he could deny it.

He snapped out of his thoughts when she fell and cried out, then slammed her fists against the floor as she took her right shoe off and massaged her foot. She seemed less in pain than she was angry. Basch could not understand why she would be upset over such a thing, but instinct pulled him towards her to reveal his presence.

"Anya," he said quietly, as if speaking in any volume louder than a whisper's would wake the others back at the camp site. "Are you all right, Anya?"

Anya gasped, her first thought being to turn her face to the side. Still, he could see her eyes dart from side to side, perhaps looking for a way out – as pirates were wont to do, he understood – of the questions that would come next. "Sir Basch–"

"You dance beautifully," he said, to get _that _thought out of his mind. It wasn't exactly what he was thinking, but it came close, and he wasn't lying. "Princess Anastacia once danced as skillfully and as passionately."

A wry smile took the place of Anya's nervous expression. "You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"I _am _saying it," replied Basch, "because it is true."

Anya shook her head and bore her suddenly intense eyes into his. "Don't you see that I can _never _be Princess Anastacia?"

Basch gave her a pitiful look and approached her slowly. Taking her hand from her bruised foot, he helped her up. Behind her fake green eyes there was someone real, he saw just now, someone behind the mechanical girl Balthier and Fran had honed into the artful thief, the shrewd sky pirate; the girl with insecurities and imperfections, not just cunning tactics and witty remarks. He did not doubt that she'd allowed herself to become this way, but perhaps he could understand why she had chosen to walk such a path.

"With more practice," he said, "I am certain you could be."

Anya opened her mouth as if to rebuke him for being such a fool, only to stop trying and sigh. There was no use trying to make anyone understand if she would not betray her _Amba_ and _Tatah_. Just as she looked up to Basch to apologize, the clouds parted. The moonlight reflected in his steel blue eyes, and Anya witnessed his hope and his innocence despite his imprisonment and all the horrible wars he had witnessed in his comparably long lifetime. She felt goosebumps rise in her skin when she realized the warmth of his hand on hers and his breath on her forehead.

His eyebrows furrowed. Anya stood completely still, her eyes glazed. "What's wrong, Anya?"

Thoughtlessly, she leaned into his chest and breathed deeply. "Thank you," she whispered. "Perhaps you're right, Sir Basch."

Basch froze, wondering what could be occurring in the girl's mind, but held out his free hand and placed it gently on her back. He pretended not to feel the perfect fit of her head in the crook of his neck, instead focusing himself on how to ask her to delve into details once more. He didn't even notice the heartbeats he had skipped for her.

They remained in this position for a few minutes, neither one saying a thing or knowing what to think of it. For sure, they would not speak of it in the morning. Balthier and Vossler would have their heads for it, and the others were certain never to stop about it. It was only when Basch felt Anya transferring her weight to him did a sound manage to tear through their peace.

Anya lifted her head; Basch felt his chest grow cold. "What was that?"

"Let us see," he replied. Helping Anya climb the top of the crates she had pushed to the side, Basch looked over the sandsea. He clenched her hand. "No…"

**XIIXIIXII**

Vaan awoke to the sight of blood and the sound of shrieking.

When the smokescreen of the night settled down and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Basch surrounded by a group of Urutan-Yensa. It was his blood he saw earlier, drawn out when the blade of an Urutan cut his arm.

"Curaga!" He heard Anya cry out hoarsely. From behind Vaan, a white light shimmered over to Basch and illuminated his entire body. His cuts closed in an instant, though there were still marks of them left. "_Amba_, behind _Tatah_!"

"By the gods…" It was Balthier, struggling to shake off his sleep and stand. Rubbing his eyes, he groped the ground for his gun. "How did they find us?"

"Your little client wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?" asked Vossler, angrily, fighting off the Urutan from the still groggy princess beside him. "It must have given us those Bull Yensa for a reason."

"Absurd," said Fran, reaching for her bow with a swift yawn. Getting off her knees, she immobilized two Urutan behind Balthier. "That creature had no lie in his eyes."

Vossler snorted. "Do they even have eyes?"

Vaan was still completely puzzled about everything; somehow, the Urutan-Yensa found them, and now they were under attack, but how, and why hadn't anyone woken him?

"Vaan! Vaan, they're–!" came Penelo's cries before she was given a clout to the head. She was being taken away by three Urutan, back to wherever they had hidden their Yensa. No one had noticed before then.

"Penelo!" No one except Ashe, who dove for the girl with her sword raised. She managed to cut the arms off one Urutan, but the others overpowered her and tossed Penelo away to take her instead. The muscles in her legs and arms were still adjusting to the waking world, though her mind was fully aware of what was happening, and she was helpless.

"Your Highness–!" Vossler shouted, but was unable to save her when more Urutan came and tied him down to fighting them.

Ever the fool, Vaan jumped to grab her feet. In thinking to play tug of war for Ashe with the Urutan, he managed to get himself taken as well.

Once they had two Humes, one of the Urutan snapped its fingers noisily, sending out orders with its crackling voice. The rest withdrew and ran off, jumping over the red railings.

"Not that easily," said Balthier, determined. "Fran!"

The two elder pirates ran for the edge of the structure, Fran daring to stand with her heels teetering on the edge of the rails. The Yensa had caught their masters from below; Fran and Balthier shot at them, she keeping her arrows and he keeping his bullets raining at the Urutan holding Ashe and Vaan. The veil of the night, usually their ally, aided most of the Urutan in their escape. There were figures left to be tossed and turned by the waves of the sandsea, but none of them were Hume.

Vossler watched helplessly, running his fingers through his hair and pulling at them in the middle, then threw his fist against the post. "Damn!"

**XIIXIIXII**

Ashelia awoke to complete silence.

Her head was numb, but as she regained her senses she felt a bump forming against its side, probably from the beating it received from the Urutan who had captured her. The events of the past hour—or hours, had it been? She seemed to have been unconscious for only a second, and then forever—rushed back to her in grim realization, and soon she felt her wrists scathed by the thick ropes that bound them.

Feeling something warm against her fingers, Ashe looked behind her. Behind the post she was tied to lay Vaan, his head slumped against his shoulder, his wrists bound to her own.

"Vaan," she whispered, nudging him as hard as she could with her current position. "Vaan! Wake up, will you?"

The boy didn't budge. Ashe groaned, both at his stubbornness even in his sleep and at the smell of sweat and Yensa manure wafting into the tent they had been thrown into. She diverted her physical self with whims of the mind once she admitted that she could not cut through the rope with her own nails, and her thoughts inevitably brought her to the subject of Vossler York Azelas.

He was a man she had tried very hard not to think about over the past few months, despite working closely beside him to secure the liberation of her kingdom. She had failed, naturally, but was she to blame? Vossler's determination was so reminiscent of Rasler's. That angry, aggrieved spirit, that unwavering passion for his kingdom in his gray eyes so reminded her of the love in Rasler's amber own, to the point, sometimes, that she wished to cry. But unlike Rasler, Ashe knew she could never let Vossler see her weak. His resolve would crumble, no doubt, once he saw that she – rightful Queen of Dalmasca – had not the strength to stand on her own feet. But sometimes, how she just wished to have his arms around her, to hear his steady voice against her ear, sending ripples of excitement down her spine and telling her that with him at her side, there was nothing she could not accomplish.

Anastacia would have hated her for it. And her father, who never remarried even after her mother's death, and Rasler himself. Ashe shook her head, shaking away the thoughts that so broke her heart. Was it allowed to pine when the death of her first love was still unavenged? Or was she to be only a widow her whole life? If she could only be the strong queen she wished to be, with a heart of gold for her people but a stone heart for herself, so she might never need to love for herself again...

Ashe sighed. She was becoming the damsel in distress that pirate girl had so jocosely accused her of becoming, even as she tried to grow into the opposite. Would the others know where to look? Was this the end of her journey?

An Urutan crackled noisily somewhere not far from her.

Ashe laid her head against the post behind her, hoping it would send her senses back to her. Of course she would survive this night. Death, among the savage sandpeoples? Not this fate; not for her. And not for Vaan, she sincerely added later, though she would never tell him. There were still deaths to be avenged; still a kingdom to ransom.

She cursed herself that all she could do now was wait.

**XIIXIIXII**

Eveyone was rattled by their sudden loss of two party members. It was temporary, to be sure—Penelo thought to herself. The pirates had never failed in securing each other's safety; this was a blow to their pride, their names, and though they could never say it, they felt some worry for the rebel-princess and the street rat.

"How did this happen?" asked Balthier, no longer hiding his irritation as he scratched his head roughly. "_When_ did it happen?"

"It was Vaan's watch, I think," Anya volunteered. "I woke him before going to sleep after my own."

"He was closest to the fire when I awoke." Basch stole a glance at Anya, who nervously turned her eyes back to Balthier every time their eyes met.

"It doesn't matter whose watch it was," muttered Vossler, his head in his hands. Even Basch had never seen him so ashamed before. "She was under my protection. I failed her."

"True," said Balthier, then added, "but don't be too hard on yourself, soldier. Everyone is bound to fail at some point."

Vossler shot him an icy glare. "Not me. Not with this."

Balthier shrugged, as if he had already done all he could to cheer the man up, and turned to Anya as an idea came to his head. "Which begs the question: how were you so energized when the rest of us were groggy?"

"That didn't beg any question," Anya said, sounding thoughtful, but all she could hear was the thump of her heart in her ears. "I…I wasn't able to fall in a deep sleep like the rest of you. When I heard the Urutan shrieking, I awoke immediately and accidentally kicked Sir Basch."

Basch hid his surprise at the sight of Anya's apologetic expression. "Ah—yes. That is how I awoke. We tried to wake the rest of you as they came upon us, as you should remember, but you were sound asleep and there was the battle to think of."

"Oh." Balthier glanced at Fran, who nodded, and stood. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Penelo stared at him in confusion. She had been quiet all throughout, blaming herself for the princess's kidnapping. If Ashe had never noticed her, she would have been taken instead and Vaan wouldn't be in such danger. "What…?"

Balthier grinned encouragingly, motioning for Basch to get his old friend up and moving. "What? You've never heard of princes charming in distress?"

**XIIXIIXII**

"S…sorry."

Ashe's eyes snapped open. Behind her, she could feel Vaan's heavy sighing. The small fire at her feet had already died, but wisps of smoke still rose to the moon, their only source of light now. It seemed such a long time since she had fallen asleep again. Her throat was numb, but she forced herself to speak. "You're awake."

"It's my fault," Vaan continued.

"Why?" she asked, oddly patient. "I was captured as well. I don't feel there is any need for apology."

"No, it's…it's because I was supposed to be taking watch. I fell asleep, and then when I finally woke up, Basch and Anya were already fighting with those monsters. If I was awake, this wouldn't have happened."

Behind him, Vaan could feel Ashe's heavy sighing. "I see."

He didn't expect her to sympathize with him, but he didn't expect that she wouldn't yell at him, either. Her calmness made him wonder if he was talking to the right girl; if he was talking to the fallen princess at all. "If you had known you wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility, you should have woken me up," she said to him quietly. "I could have taken over for you."

Vaan breathed with some amusement. "That'd be really embarrassing," he muttered. "Plus Vossler would have thrown a fit. You know that, right?"

At the mention of her knight, she breathed heavily again, but meant to forget it, especially in Vaan's presence. "That's foolish," said the princess, "You should know when to ask for help."

Before Vaan could answer, Ashe gave a violent _shh_ and told him to listen, listen for the light footsteps in the sand approaching them. An Urutan scuttled into the tent, hurriedly glancing left and right. The flaps gave a violent swoosh as it pinned them together behind its bony grey fingers.

"What do you want from us?" Vaan hissed the moment it entered.

Startled, it released the tent flaps and jumped towards Vaan, who noted that what looked like its index finger, pressed against his lips, smelled like hemp and leather before he reached out to bite it. The Urutan snapped its finger back. Soon after, it began to emit a familiar crackling sound from its mouth.

Ashe stared at it with obvious fatigue. "We can't understand your language."

The Urutan blinked and nodded in comprehension. Treading softly on the sand, it picked up a stick on one of the crates stacked in the tent and drew figures on the ground before them. When it was finished, it pointed to itself repeatedly before staring at Vaan and Ashe expectantly. The princess kept her eyes on the writing in the sand with some irritation until she realized it was an attempt to write in Hume. Vaan seethed on his side of the tent, surprisingly quiet, while she tried to decipher the figures. They looked barbaric because of the way they were written, but Ashe could make some of it out.

"_RMMBR ITR_"

"_HLP U _"

"_RTRN FAVR_"

"Itter…" Ashe repeated. "Itter. Remember…something. Help you. Return favor. You want to return the favor and help us, is that it?"

A nod from the Urutan.

"But why?"

"The eater!" Vaan suddenly cried out. "The Urutan-eater. This guy was the one who asked for our help!"

Pleased, the Urutan clapped his hands together softly, then unbound the ropes tying the two Dalmascans together. They each thanked him, Ashe giving him a small smile and Vaan giving him a grateful thwap on the back that caused the poor creature to stumble forward. For a moment, Ashe thought she saw his mouth turn upward to form a smile, but he was quick to move and set to writing in the sand again.

"Treasure," she read the next words with some difficulty. "N…n…oh, _in_. Treasure in Nam-Yensa."

Vaan raised a finger in epiphany. "The treasure he promised us for helping is in the Nam-Yensa?"

Ashe turned to the Urutan curiously. "Where did you learn to write Hume?"

"_BZAR_"

"_TRADE N SECRET FR FUD_"

"Wow. When times get tough, huh?" Vaan shook his head.

"…I would think you understood his situation," said Ashe, carefully.

"I do. I'm just surprised even some of these go through it, too."

She had thought he would be wiser to the ways of the world, too, being raised in the harsh undergrounds of a city enslaved to the Archadian Empire, but she supposed living in only Rabanastre without any exposure to its true cruelty had provided Vaan with some shelter. But as Ashe watched the boy gratefully collect his belongings from the sand creature, the memory of his risking himself to shield an unconscious Anya post-Firemane from the careless Imperials bobbed up somewhere in the tides of her reasoning, and she retracted the thought in her mind. Naïve though he was, thief though he might be, his heart was in the right place.

Ashe took her sword from the Urutan and crouched beside the exit. Her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. What if the other Urutan-Yensa were to find them as they left the tent? What if they had gotten the best of Vossler and the others and she and Vaan were the only survivors left? Her mind always rattled her with worst case scenarios – ever since her most horrifying fears had been realized with the death of her father; and of Rasler, and Anastacia.

"We should leave now," she said to their Urutan. "Surely they will notice your absence soon."

Another nod, and, handing her a folded piece of scrap paper, the Urutan shoved them out of the tent as quietly as he could. For once, Vaan didn't complain about being pushed.

"Thank you," Ashe turned around to say, but their Urutan had already skittered back to the fire among all the tents in the distance.

Vaan grabbed the paper in her fist and unfolded it. Surprisingly enough, Ashe didn't react violently. She moved Vaan over to a spot – still hidden, hopefully – where the moon could shine over the writing brightly enough for them to read it: a map of what Ashe recognized as the two Sandseas. Encircled by coal was the Urutan camp, still in the Ogir-Yensa, she noted, not too far from the structures they had been captured from. Could the others find them here, she wondered?

"Since the moon is there…" Vaan mumbled to himself, pointing in all the appropriate directions, "We have to go back this way. I wonder if Penelo and Balthier and the others are okay."

"Let us find ourselves out of this, first," Ashe suggested.

Vaan jumped back in shock, having forgotten her presence completely, but nodded obeisantly and started off for the direction of the Nam-Yensa. Ashe followed suit, much more on guard than her companion. Her knuckles were white against the hilt of her sword, ready to cut down any obstruction to their escape. If only retrieving Dalmasca out of Archadia's hold was this easy…

Ashe's nose crashed into the nape of Vaan's neck as he stopped abruptly, going so far as to push her back a few steps. "Do you hear that?" he asked when she opened her mouth to reprimand him.

Ashe closed her eyes and listened intently. Intense murmuring reached her ears: there was an argument taking place somewhere near them. Her heartbeat quickened by the thousands at the thought of being punished for attempted escape; but she listened again, and found she couldn't hear the slightest crackle.

Hume murmuring. Either there were other non-Urutan prisoners, or…

"This is hardly the attitude we expected of a former _Captain_ of Dalmasca."

"Know, pirate, that Her Highness is the only reason your head hasn't rolled clean off your shoulders."

"Vossler!"

"My, my, we're terrified now, aren't we, Fran?"

"Shaking."

I'm…not an expert at these rescue missions, but shouldn't we be more quiet?"

"Leave them, Penelo. They'll know when to stop. At least, I think _Amba_ will…"

Vaan and Ashe locked wide eyes. "Vossler," Vaan nearly choked.

"Fran and Penelo," Ashe nodded.

It couldn't have been a trap, they knew; not some mimicry the Urutan-Yensa had conjured. Quickly, they rushed out to meet the others. The sudden noise prompted their rescuers to draw their weapons, but at the sight of Ashe and Vaan, nearly dropped them.

"Your Highness!"

"Vaan!"

Vossler took hold of Ashe's arm with a killer grip; she found it didn't hurt as much as the others imagined it to. "Did they hurt you, my lady?"

She shook her head, still barely able to gather her thoughts into one coherent mouthing. "We…just made it out. How long have we been gone?"

"A few hours," said Balthier, sliding his rifle back into its holster, "though to Captain Azelas, it seemed ages."

Vaan, trapped between Penelo's embrace and Anya's snickering, managed to speak. "The Urutan we helped earlier set us free! He says our treasure is in the Nam-Yensa…here," he said, when Penelo let go, "he even gave us a map!"

Vossler scowled at Balthier's triumphant chuckle; Anya, bemused, wondered if this game would ever end.

"Vaan, don't you ever scare us like that again," Penelo scolded, lightly hitting him across the arm.

"Yes, she couldn't stop fretting," Anya added, giving Vaan a pointed look. "Even Sir Basch was worried, you know."

Basch, trapped in his own thoughts, looked up at the sound of his name. "Ah—yes."

"Thanks for the concern," Vaan said, returning Anya's expression. When she shrugged, they shared a small laugh.

"Let's save the festivities for when our lives aren't in grave, grave danger, hmm?" Balthier declared more than asked, and once more they were off, their Yensa leaving no traces of them behind. This time, they did not stay the night.

**XIIXIIXII**

Wisps of stray hair frayed on Penelo's left cheek, sticky with saliva from her rocky slumber on the Bull-Yensa. Nevertheless, it was a comfortable thing to wake to; a nice alternative to Migelo's hard desk, with an ear stuck between the folds of an encyclopedia and the magick in the lamp beside her about to go out–

"Guh!" Penelo jumped up and blew at a lamp that wasn't there; she received only curious stares for her attempt to save Migelo's _imaginary _ magicite, she soon came to the realization. Inconspicuously wiping the edges of her mouth and spitting out the Yensa hairs that had somehow found its way past her lips, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Almost in the Nam," said Fran, lifting a leg over their Yensa and straddling it properly now that Penelo was sitting upright. Thanks to the previous night's events, Balthier, Basch and Vossler had come to the conclusion that they should keep going lest the Urutan horde catch up with them. There was a little problem with the Yensa pairings again: this time Vossler had completely refused to sit with Vaan as he earlier had. She had suggested the Strahl bedroom pairings, but with Vossler replacing Nono, having him and Balthier on one Yensa was sure to end with one of them left tossing in the Sandsea (at least, in Basch's mind, though it wouldn't have been far from the truth). And so there were Vossler and Ashe, the knight and her princess; Balthier and Vaan, duke and dunce (or maybe—master and apprentice?); Basch and Anya, whom Balthier had, shockingly, overlooked; and she and Penelo, the only pair made of a new acquaintanceship.

Perhaps. She wasn't sure how Anastacia was handling her Captain's presence these past few days. Fran hadn't missed the way Anya called out to him—first, and not them—upon their reunion in the Dreadnought, and she had heard their murmurs in the kitchen the night before, but it was clear the man had no idea who she _was_; her sister was none the wiser.

Fran knew it was cruel to find solace in that; although, when they were but a duo, before Anya came along and also declared Nono a member of their troupe, she had subtly confessed to Balthier that part of her was content?glad?_happy_–that he cast himself from his own riches and was with her. He had neither rebuked nor condoned her, but the night that followed was... Fran expelled herself from that train of thought before the others could notice her dazed expression.

"Fran?"

It was the princess who had called her. She rode beside them, her arms wrapped around her knight, who watched Fran expectantly but looked away in irritation when their eyes met. With a nod, she prodded Ashe to continue.

"How do you expect to find your reward?" Ashe asked. "The Nam is a big place."

"Balthier has a knack for finding these things," replied Fran, slightly amused at Vossler's incoherent mumbling to himself. With a rare smile that put Ashe and her knight on guard, she added, "Do you not trust us to find our treasure?"

"I don't doubt your ability," said Ashe, unable to express total disdain for the older woman. She had always been somewhat intimidated by the Viera. "But the Archadian Empire waits for no one. Will this hunt take a day? A week? Do you have any idea what your reward even is?"

"It will not take more than a day," Fran confidently reassured her. "There is nothing here but sand, and perhaps a few structures of ancient descent. For certain, our promised treasure will stand out. Hume and Urutan tastes are not too far apart."

There was a short pause on Ashe's side as she gave it some thought; as if she could do a thing if it took the pirates more than a day. Still, it hurt no one to keep the pretense of having some sort of control. "Very well," the rightful queen of Dalmasca yielded, before Vossler flicked the reins on their Bull Yensa and sped off, "I would that you find it soon."

Penelo, having watched the exchange with no scruples, asked Fran, "Wow, are you really certain you can find whatever that treasure is in just a day?"

"Nothing is ever certain in sky piracy," Fran answered, meeting the girl's inquisitive gaze. "Although I would say that they often come through, Balthier and Anya. And so I do believe we can."

Penelo could only nod in amazement at what she saw as the deep level of their trust. Wishing she and Vaan could read each other's minds as these sky pirates seemed to, she faced the sands ahead and believed, too, that they could find the treasure before the end of the day.

"I wonder what they're all talking about over there," muttered Vaan, watching Ashe and Vossler depart from Fran and Penelo's side.

It was his and Balthier's Bull Yensa that led the group, but since Balthier was steadily focused on driving, Vaan was able to look around at as much as he could. Almost directly behind them rode Fran and Penelo, who talked about something briefly before Penelo rested her chin against the side of her Yensa's horn and closed her eyes again. Directly opposite each other were Vossler's and Basch's Yensa, as if they were intent on staying as far away from each other as possible, but Vaan knew it was just the heat getting to him.

Basch was lucky Balthier was so focused on looking for their treasure, Vaan thought to himself, because if not, he would have caught Anya leaning back against the old Captain a long time ago. It was probably innocent, since Anya was genuinely asleep – he could tell because Basch had to reach over and close her mouth every so often, so she wouldn't wake up in a coughing fit as she had an hour prior – but judging by the look Balthier had shot him when Anya offered to room with him the night before, circumstances probably didn't matter to the sky pirate.

On the other hand, Vossler looked to still be extremely guilty about the kidnapping. The other former Captain had this determined, almost sad expression on his face that Vaan wondered about, but Ashe didn't seem to blame anyone for what happened to them last night, even if he knew it had been _his_ own fault. She had a really tight grip on the raven-haired man, though. Was she that afraid of flight by Bull Yensa?

"Nothing of consequence if we aren't involved," Vaan heard Balthier say, as a late reply to his early monologuing. He wasn't really aware that he had said it so loudly. "You'll learn that over time."

"Or maybe they have a secret and they don't want us to know about it?"

"As I said," said Balthier, releasing a small sigh, as if he had already repeated the statement a million times, "it can't be that important if they aren't telling us."

"Is that another sky pirate rule?"

"Rule?" Balthier laughed. "That's Anya talking, isn't it? She likes some regulation to her games. Much like a script to a production, but everyone knows a true thespian shines only when he shows skill in improvisation."

"Uh… Her games? Thespian improvisation?"

Another sigh. Vaan thought he was collecting a lot of those lately. "You'll understand someday," said Balthier with a shrug, and blocked out any more of the boy's talking in favor of searching for his treasure.

"Do you really trust these people?" asked Vossler, leaning back a little so Ashe could hear him over the growing wind. "These sky pirates?"

Ashe considered her answer, all too aware of Vossler's growing irritation with their lot, Balthier especially. "To an extent, I suppose," she said. "They dislike the Empire enough not to turn us in when they had the chance."

"You speak of the Dreadnought? They needed our cooperation to escape then."

"And now we need theirs," said Ashe, somewhat begrudgingly, if only to match Vossler's tone. "Basch – seems to trust them enough."

Vossler watched his old friend and grimaced. He was allowing that pirate girl he had entered the base with to use him as a cushion for rest while he did all the work? Basch _was_ growing soft. And yet he himself couldn't shake the aggravating familiarity he felt with the little brat. "They freed him from the Empire's shackles, and so he feels he is beholden to them and their whims," he replied with distaste, and repeated, "Basch fon Ronsenburg – always the optimist."

Ashe gave a small grunt of agreement against Vossler's back. He could never know how she envied that rare optimism.

The headwind began to intensify into a sandstorm after another hour of sleep for Anya, who awoke after Balthier declared it too much of a hindrance to go on. They stopped under a den formed by heaps of weathered rock large enough to fit them, and Anya leapt off the Yensa faster than Balthier could turn his head to account for all of them.

As Fran performed a round of Aero spells to draw the sand from everyone's eyes, Penelo crossed her legs beside Vaan. She had expected him to leap into conversation with Basch or Anya as soon as he had the chance, but there he sat, against the wall, keeping to himself.

"Hey, Vaan."

Vaan kept his gaze focused outside the cave. Penelo followed it, but she saw only sand. "Hey," he answered.

"What are you thinking about? You're awfully quiet."

"Just something Balthier was saying earlier."

Penelo sighed inwardly. It figured that he'd be thinking of something sky pirate related. "Okay. Listen, about what _I_ said earlier…"

"Uh…" What Vaan's friends appreciated most about him was that he rarely ever held grudges – against the empire, maybe, and his brother's murderer, Noah or something Basch said his name was – he really was the type to forget and, in essence, forgive, because he couldn't be angry about something he couldn't remember. He had no idea what Penelo was talking about now, but he let her continue anyway. "What about it?"

"I still don't trust the sky pirates completely – I mean, you said yourself they tried to take your steal before, but I think you're right. They're not as bad as Vossler makes them out to be."

"Oh, that. I guess they can get confusing sometimes…" Vaan trailed off. For a second, Penelo thought he lapsed into thinking of whatever riddle Balthier had put in his mind again when he spoke, a little more softly this time. "I'm sorry I wasn't the one who saved you last night."

Penelo blinked. She didn't think he would ever think back on that, or that he had even realized it. Still, she was glad of the fact that it made him somewhat guilty – not having been her knight in shining armor. "It's okay. Everyone was just waking up, and I know you're always the last to," she laughed.

Vaan joined her laughter, and realized they hadn't done so together in ages. "Yeah." Finally, he faced her, a rare thoughtful expression on him, and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Penelo."

It was Penelo's turn to look away. She couldn't show him how pink she was. "Me too, Vaan."

"…I mean, not that I'm glad you were kidnapped or anything, you know if I knew it'd happen then I wouldn't even have thought of—"

Penelo giggled. "I get it, Vaan."

"Okay." Vaan said with a straight voice; a failed attempt to be sagely. "Good."

"Yeah."

Silence passed.

"By Faram, my neck is aching!"

Vaan and Penelo turned to Anya - taking her place before them - with ready smiles, grateful to be relieved of the first awkward moment they had ever experienced with each other. The sky pirate glanced at Penelo's pinkness and Vaan's lower lip-gnawing. "Did I interrupt something here?"

"No!"

Anya thought of teasing them about it, but took pity on Penelo and shook her head. "If you insist. In any case, I need a massage. But the best masseuses are in Rozarria, you know, and…" she groaned, bowing her head forward to stretch her neck. "If I'd known my neck would hurt this much, I would never have slept at all."

"Really?" Vaan grinned. "You looked pretty comfortable on your Hume pillow to me."

Anya's nose turned a bit red, but she could only narrow her eyes at Vaan. And after she _hadn't_ humored herself at his expense, too! "All right," she frowned. "I won't discuss this with you further. Those creatures clearly hit your head too hard last night."

"_What_? That doesn't make any sense!"

"Hello," said Basch, crouching down beside them. "May I?"

"Sure," Vaan said as Anya nodded. He flashed the girl a teasing grin. "Pillow—uh, Basch."

"Vaan, you…!" Shooting Vaan a look that could kill, Anya stood up and left to join Fran and Balthier.

Basch looked about himself. "Did I…?"

"No, it was Vaan," Penelo replied with a small slap to the boy's arm, prompting a persistent denial from her best friend, but she only shook her head at him. And just when she thought he had grown up a little…

Basch could only feel this was becoming a routine for him.

The wind didn't die down until lunchtime, when the group finished the last of their real cooked (and re-heated) provisions from Nono. From there on out, Fran announced, they would have to depend on "easy-Firable" food products, which Balthier and Anya declared would give them the worst stomachaches. After cleaning up and making sure not to leave a trace, they set out with the midday sun high above their heads.

It wasn't until after another hour when Fran picked up the stench of death, and fury, and desert, and heard the familiar crackling the eight now dreaded.

"Stop," she said, riding up to Balthier's Yensa as they rounded a cliff face. Since their rest, they had been following a long range of high rocks which seemed to stretch on forever. "I sense the Urutan-Yensa."

Balthier tugged at the reins, effectively causing his Yensa to yelp and stop. The rest followed.

"What's wrong?" Ashe called out.

"Urutan," Fran answered. Penelo shuddered. "We must tread softly and slowly."

"We should ride faster," Vossler frowned. "Or is it your intention that they reach us again?"

Fran whipped her head back, her calm demeanor replaced with irritation. It was the first show of emotion Basch had ever seen from her. "You will allow me to finish. The Urutan-Yensa are _ahead_ of us. They passed us somehow."

"The sandstorm," said Basch, finding himself relieved when Fran's icy stare melted down to indifference when she turned to him. "They must have faced it head on."

"Highly likely." Balthier allowed his Yensa to sail forward once more. "We stick to the cliff side. Follow me."

At this, not even Vossler dared protest. As Balthier instructed, they rode their Yensa by the cliff side, along which shrubberies and a great number of different cactus species grew to hide them from the danger Fran sensed. Minutes later, a large clump of dark brown hoods stood out amongst the sand. At that point, even Vaan could smell the fear the Urutan-Yensa embodied.

A separate row of pillars of weathered rock jutted out of the main cliff, like bars to a prison cell among the sand and the dry foliage. The party approached the Urutan behind these bars, their curious nature momentarily overcoming their fear.

"It's some sort of gathering," Ashe noted, watching a taller Urutan whose fan-shaped head set it apart from the others. It was gesticulating towards its cloaked companions. "Look at that cloakless one, at the head of the group. It's proclaiming something."

"That…" Fran's ears twitched as she spoke, and she only paused to listen to the Urutan's wails. "That is their – queen, if you will. They…have been searching for us. She insists there is a traitor among their ranks, because surely their prisoners couldn't have escaped on their own."

"I'm fairly certain we could have saved them without that one's help, actually," Balthier mumbled.

"Would you like to tell _her_ that?" Vossler whispered in reply, and, for the first time (and last, if Balthier could help it), had the last word.

The Urutan queen called an Urutan forward; the others cleared out of his way like he carried the plague. Only Ashe and Vaan could distinguish him, could recognize his moments and way of skittering forward, now distinct to them. He was_ their_ Urutan, the one who saved them despite the risk of his life, and now he was on trial for helping them.

Fran confirmed their suspicions. "She condemns him for asking for our aid in defeating the Eater."

"B-but how do they know it was _him_?" asked Penelo.

"There were witnesses; some injured Urutan who survived the battle said it was he who brought us four Bull Yensa."

Anya and Penelo glanced at each other nervously.

"There is another charge against him," Fran added. "He trades with Humes. A few of his comrades saw him sneaking off to Rabanastre during one of their long distance raids. He defends himself, saying it was for their race's own good. He says he is tired of hostility and that only through peace with the outsiders will they ever prosper again. They will not listen to him."

"No…" Ashe clenched her fist. "Will they punish him?"

"Death," said Fran, with shocking finality. "In our place. And his own, for lowering himself enough to seek aid from Humes and aiding them in their escape. He dies a traitor, says the queen."

As she said this, their Urutan began to cough and hold his throat in a panic, as if some unseen force was causing him extreme pain. He fell to his knees, but he did not beg for his life.

"We have to help him," Vaan decided. "He saved our lives. We owe him for that, too!"

"That's no trial. That's an execution," Ashe nodded in agreement, and Penelo and Anya followed the two as they moved to get off their respective Yensa. Their older companions frowned, each fully understanding the others, and held them back.

"Sir Basch, what are you doing?"

"Vossler, we must save him!"

"Fran, please, he's helpless…"

"Lemme go, Balthier!"

The adults were resolute, and went so far as to clamp hands over their mouths. The younger ones struggled, but not enough to attract attention. Helplessly, they watched and listened as the Urutan's coughing settled down to a fit of convulsions, and then his cloak fell to the sand, his body dust, as if he had never existed at all.

After warning her subordinates of even thinking of such a betrayal, the Urutan queen left. Like machines, the rest followed.

Ashe covered her face once Vossler released her. Her shoulders shook slightly as she gulped down a sob. The others looked just as affected by the encounter, only they showed it differently.

"Why?" Anya nearly shouted. Anastacia, upon her death, had decided to cry no more. "_Amba_, _Tatah_, Sir Basch—I don't understand. You let him die!"

"We could have saved him," Penelo agreed, her voice unstable.

"I thought sky pirates weren't afraid of anything," said Vaan, true to the image of a rebellious teen to his parent.

"This matter isn't _sky pirate_ exclusive," said Balthier, to Vaan and to the rest of his juniors. He had thought that at least Anya would understand. "Had we attempted to save that Urutan, we would have all perished!"

"He died because of us," cried Ashe. "Had he not freed us, they would have let his other transgressions pass!"

"You don't know that," came Vossler's quiet voice. It was the first show of guilt Anya had ever seen from him.

"He made his choice," Fran spoke. "His wish was that you and Vaan live. Had we rushed in to save him, his suffering would have been for naught."

"Why do you sound so sure?" Penelo asked, but her eyes were focused on the cloak that was beginning to get buried in the sand. "You said… you said nothing was sure in sky piracy."

"Whether that holds truth or not, there was nothing we could do," said Basch, almost apologetically. "We would have been defeated by a small band of them had the Pineapple not interfered. How do you think we would have fared against their whole tribe?"

"They had raw power and the advantage of territory," Vossler reasoned. "As earlier stated – we would have died. You will learn as you grow older that you must choose your battles. In some instances, we must yield to the coercing force to survive."

As Ashe wondered when Vossler gained such a mentality, everyone was quiet. The next move anybody made was Anya attempting to jump off her Bull Yensa. Before Basch could stop her, she held a hand up to stop him. "Please, Sir Basch. I'm going to pay my respects."

One by one, the rest followed, until they all surrounded the Urutan's cloak.

"I want to keep it," said Ashe, reaching out to touch the cloak after a lengthy stillness. "No one – not even royalty – is worthy of the life of another. With this…I will always remember that moment of weakness. And I will never allow it to happen again."

Pity flickered in Anya's expression, as well as something familiar – just so familiar – that Ashe couldn't place. "Asheli…Ashe," the pirate corrected herself, "you know it wasn't—"

"Just this once," pleaded Ashe, "listen to me." She shook the sand off the cloak and held it out for the girl to keep in her pouch, but as Anya reached out to take it, a breeze strayed from its westward path. The cloak flew up and dashed behind Ashe, past the cliff that led down to a small valley in the desert. "No!"

"I'll get it," declared Vaan, and jumped down after it.

"Vaan!" Penelo gasped, watching him disappear. The others followed, some in a panic and some calmly (Balthier in particular heaved a sigh), and Fran held Penelo by the shoulders to make sure she wouldn't follow her friend.

"Vaan," Basch called out, kneeling over the edge. The cliff wasn't that high, but the boy was nowhere in sight. "Where are you?"

"I'm okay!" Vaan yelled from somewhere beneath them. He was, in fact, directly beneath them. "You guys have _got _to see this! Come on!"

Beneath that small cliff was another cave, not unlike the den they had taken refuge in earlier that day. The only difference between the two was that this shelter was filled with flowers—of a particular type. It was periwinkle with white dots, with two long petals that plumed downward after a certain length, and looked almost like any other purple flower with two long petals, if not for the berries that grew in its center.

"Eksir flowers," Balthier whispered in complete awe. He walked forward, slowly, before kneeling beside a clump and stroking its petals almost affectionately.

"Who knew flowers could grow in this place?" Vaan wondered out loud.

"Eksirs only grow in the desert," Fran replied, "but their only known pollinating agents are the Urutan-Yensa – these are costly, especially in the Archadian and Rozarrian markets."

"If only the Urutan-Yensa tend to them, why are there any in the markets?" asked Ashe.

"They were stolen," Penelo deduced. "But to discover a whole garden…!"

"This must be it," said Anya, eyes wide as wonder filled her heart. "This was the treasure our Urutan-Yensa promised us! There could be nothing more valuable in the desert."

"Wow," Vaan smiled in appreciation. "I guess they would make nice ornaments."

Anya pulled out an entire clump and clasped them in her pouch's side pocket. "Not just an ornament. I overheard a friend from Clan Centurio—"

"A _friend_? From Clan Centurio?" Balthier asked, clearly doubtful.

"Well, Montblanc _is _Nono's brother…"

"A_ friend_? From Clan Centurio?"

"All right, an _acquaintance_," Anya sighed. "I run into his pockets every so often. A few months prior, I heard him mumbling about how he could have defeated some gigantic, flying Mark if he'd had these." She revealed a pair of Eksir berries crushed in her palm and subsequently ate them. "Apparently, it's poison…"

"Then why did you just eat it!?" Vaan gasped. "Spit it out, you can still—"

Anya laughed and licked her lips. "It's completely poisonous for any creature that can fly. I'm not sure why…but that's what Monid said. The Bangaa is a luminary in his field."

"Which makes you wonder why he stays in Clan Centurio," Balthier muttered.

"Clan Centurio isn't that bad," Anya pouted. "They just don't resort to the schemes, don't go to the same lengths most headhunters do."

"Are you saying—"

"If you are quite finished…" Vossler interrupted, clearing his throat almost politely. "The Dawn Shard."

"Oh, we're finished," said Anya, having picked all but one flower. No doubt one of the Sandsea's lords would find this place again and grow it into the same haven their Urutan had. "King Raithwall's tomb shouldn't be far from here, I think."

Having nearly left the cave, Balthier turned back. "And how would you know?"

Anya didn't miss a beat. Anastacia was proud. "I saw that the cliff we were following earlier finally stops at what seems to be this great wall. If it wasn't a mirage, I believe it may be the tomb."

Balthier nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Let's move, then."

As the others exited the cave, Anya clutched their Urutan's cloak. She spoke to the den's walls as if he stood right before her. "I wonder if you'll play with my brother there, when you meet the gods in the heavens," she smiled bitterly. "You remind me of him – needless sacrifice. But in the end, I guess you won."

Before she turned to leave, she put on a bright smile, only to have it swept clean off her face when she came face to breastplate with Vossler Azelas.

"C-Captain Azelas," she failed to sound as smug as her _Tatah_. "What are you still doing here?"

The man stared her down, his gaze lacking the contempt it usually held. It was there, but muddled by confusion.

"I wonder the same thing about you."

* * *

Hope you liked it :D

**Thanks for reviewing, cartoon moomba! Glad you like the fic and Anya. :D**

Concrit (through review or PM) badly needed and greatly appreciated! See you next time!


	11. Chapter 10

**Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

Here we cooooome, Tomb of Raithwall!

'Kay, went about beating the Demon Wall and Belias differently here - mostly because I think it's impossible to kill that demon wall unless you throw a pack of dynamites in its mouth, and SERIOUSLY HOW DO YOU BEAT A FLAMING ESPER, EVEN WITH THE SHARP END OF YOUR METAL STICK. I don't think Water spells are strong enough to beat it down in a _real_ fight, either, unless you have a Blastoise Esper and hose it down with Hydro Pump.

Yeah, I'm feeling defensive today. (I have an excuse! Uh...it's that time of the month?)

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"Vaan, watch where you're hurling that thing!"

"Sorry, aiming isn't really my style!"

"I think Balthier just figured _that_ out."

"What? How about_you_ try throwing your sword at that flying monstro up there, Penelo?"

"I would, but I'm wielding a staff. It wouldn't do much, you know, even with my perfect aim."

"Yeah, right!"

"I thought you two had a nice moment earlier today. What's happened?"

The faces of both Vaan and Penelo were doused with distaste when they stopped to gape at Anya.

"Wh-what?" Penelo's ears pinked.

"Shut up, Anya!" Vaan hissed.

Anya shrugged, thinking only of sweet revenge, and returned to chanting the Darkga spell at their flying foe.

They had heard its screech as they crouched through the archway under the wall Anya had seen earlier on. True to their suspicions, the wall blocked the way to the magnificent tomb of the once great Raithwall. As if anticipating their arrival, a colonnade led the path towards his castle of a resting place. Steel buttresses held it up on each end, and right above the running staircase and the circle-rimmed pediment was a façade resembling a fearsome, manlike creature holding twin blades across its chest, with spikes jutting outward serving as a pediment over the thing, like a halo; a fitting simulacrum of the Dynast-King.

As soon as Balthier had taken his first step into the area, a gigantic bird with shimmering gold wings and an elongated beak on its particularly small head swooped down at him with a piercing caw. He was able to leap out of its way, but Vossler was not so lucky. The Garuda – Fran called it, claiming to have read about it years ago – nipped at his shoulder and would have torn his arm off had Basch not cleaved his sword down on the monster's beak, causing it to cry out and send Vossler crashing against one of the columns. Weapons were drawn immediately, though Ashe had gone to tend to the large gash on Vossler's left arm, leaving Basch with the sky pirates and their stowaways.

"I'd have thought," Balthier started, nearing Anya as he shot at the Garuda, "that you would influence these two for the worse. Yet here I find you terribly influenced by _them_."

"Of course not!" Anya gasped, momentarily glaring at him for cutting her off when she had almost finished the spell, but knew his joking to be good-natured. "To be honest, I believe Vaan is beginning to take after you. At least, he's trying to."

"For some unascertained reason," Fran chuckled, running by with a handful of arrows ready to fire.

Balthier scoffed indignantly, closing an eye as he aimed for the Garuda's wings. "Must the tides of interlocution always fall on me?" He sighed. "Such is the burden of the leading man… Damn, even my Dark Shots can't do a thing!"

Fran paused, her sprint slowing to a march, and, true to her position as a leading lady, held a hand to her forehead. "We _have _had a touch of heat."

Vaan glanced at her quizzically, lowering the sword he was about to hurl at the monster. "What?"

"Anya," called the Viera, "the Eksir berries."

Although visibly vexed about having her chant interrupted again, Anya reached into her pouch – she had set it beside Vossler and Ashe – and threw three berries at Fran, who deftly caught them and fired them into the Garuda once it opened its mouth to give an ear-piercing shriek. Basch and Vaan glanced at each other, then to the bird, and at once the Garuda began to writhe in the air. It cried out and bent its head downward, trying to peck at the poison that greatly unsettled its stomach, but only managed to lower itself to the ground. Vaan took the opportunity of its weakness to jump and slice its head clean off its feathery neck.

"You did it," Penelo muttered after a few minutes of heavy breathing, approaching the Garuda's head and gingerly poking it with her foot. "You actually did it."

Vaan rubbed under his nose and grinned. "Well, y'know…"

"Nice, _Amba_," Anya said, walking past Vaan and crouching to examine the corpse.

Vaan pouted. "I dealt the finishing blow, you know."

"Oh, yes," said Balthier, making his way to the Tomb, "Good job taking it down after Fran weakened it."

Vaan squinted with some contempt. Was that sarcasm? He could never tell with Balthier. "Uh…thanks."

Once reassured of Vossler's safety, Basch watched Anya tirelessly pluck golden feathers from the Garuda's wings. Catching his shadow looming over her figure, the girl smiled at him delightfully. As if following an unspoken agreement, she spoke nothing of her midnight dance practices, or how she hadn't actually found his chest all that uncomfortable that morning. "These will sell for a fortune," she told him instead. "Archadian nobles are especially eager clients – their lot has a particular fancy for shiny objects."

Basch's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you always think on profit?"

"Pirates _do_ need to eat," Anya replied resentfully. "And Nono needs a new smithy. Can't work with the Seeq always watching over his shoulders, he says to me."

"So you – do not see gil as the end all and be all of things?" asked Basch, cautiously.

"I never said it was, did I? I don't need to live in a castle. I am happy wherever _Amba_, _Tatah_, and Nono are, but…given the opportunity, I would live in a small cottage in a forest glen, somewhere along the banks of a rushing river. I would live in peace."

"…Really?" Basch tried to imagine Anya doing housework. He saw himself in a moderately sized kitchen, instead, while she waited by the dinner table, hungry after a long day of trading stolen goods in the Bazaar. It wasn't a bad life. Once he realized what was occurring in his mind, however, he closed his thoughts and frowned at himself. How had those thoughts arrived there?

Anya hesitated. "I suppose a little adventure every now and then wouldn't hurt," she answered, "but looking over one's shoulder all the time does weary a man eventually."

Basch sighed. So young – and already so tired. If he could shield her from the world and its follies, he would.

"Anya!" Fran waved at them; she and the others had almost reached the top of the stairs. She motioned for them both to follow, quick.

"Oh!" Anya scrambled to her feet. Almost routinely, Basch took her pouch and slung it over his shoulder. They walked together in silence, but the previous night's events still buzzed tenaciously in their thoughts.

"…Raithwall left three relics signifying descent from the Dynast-King," Ashe was saying, acknowledging Anya's and Basch's presence with a nod. "Of these, the Midlight Shard was given to what would become House Nabradia, and the Dusk Shard to my ancestors, the Founders of Dalmasca. The last of these relics was the Dawn Shard."

Ashe took in the entirety of the massive tomb, straining her neck to see the very top of the staircase. "It remained hidden here," she continued after a while, "known only to those of Royal Blood."

Only Vossler saw Balthier and Fran meeting eyes and turning them to Anya before he added, "As though the Dynast-King foresaw the very plight before us now."

"Only his descendants are suffered within," said Ashe. "If we enter without proof of such lineage—"

"There's no guarantee we'll make it out alive," Balthier interrupted. He knew this all too well. "Vicious beasts. Fiendish traps. Something like that?"

Ashe nodded. "But you must consider the _prize_. The Dawn Shard lies within…and Raithwall's treasure."

Anya stared pointedly at Balthier, a blatant warning that the princess was only inveigling them into helping her travel to the heart of the Tomb, but the man was too busy considering their next vacation spot, where they would be able to forget about dead princesses and all the Nethicite nonsense that had been floating about over the past few days.

The pirate shrugged. "And there was I thinking this was going to be hard!"

"Splendid," Vossler mumbled under his breath, and finally they reached the top of the stairs. There was no door; only what looked to Vaan like a truncated lamppost, but even he knew the light it held possessed a different kind of magic, the kind only people forgotten even by the history books could know. Four inverted cones girded the lamp's circular base with a dull chrome glow that tempted whoever stared into its depths to touch it.

Vossler was the first to yield.

To Penelo, it felt like a million years. They were outside the Tomb for one moment – and then everything was white, but she couldn't move, and now she couldn't remember what she had been thinking of there – and then they were inside, and the place was brightly lit with magicite lamps lining the main paths. She had to think hard for a while before she could remember why they were there in the first place.

Vaan was staring at the odd symbol that illuminated the platform below them. "What was that thing?"

"A contraption you'd find in all but the most rudimentary Ancient Ruin," replied Balthier. "One touch, and off you're whisked to you know not where. The finer points of their operation elude me, but they're handy all the same. What more need a sky pirate know?"

"You have encountered such a device before?" Ashe curiously asked Fran, who nodded.

"We were once hired by Ar-Elius Margrace as researchers to ruins not unlike this tomb."

"I couldn't come along then," Anya remembered. "Nono caught a fever when it rained in Terzo. Did—"

"You were hired by the Emperor of Rozarria? For research?" Vossler looked doubtful. Anya didn't protest to his interruption, and pretended to be busy looking through her pouch behind Basch. Anastacia had been avoiding him since he left her in the den with his words.

"Hard to believe," Balthier shrugged, "but some sky pirates have a hunger for things intellectual…though I can't say the pay wasn't bad, either."

Ashe groaned. Of course; they weren't the type to do a thing without first involving good income.

"How did you meet Rozarria's Emperor?" Penelo asked, the amazement obvious in her voice, while Ashe and Vossler branched into a different topic of conversation. Basch and Vaan listened with interest.

Balthier cleared his throat as they began descending the stairs. "It was sweltering, that day, on our way out of the Mezzol province…"

**XIIXIIXII **

"Am I to understand that the Emperor of Rozarria travels his lands unattended to; as a civilian?" Ashe asked Penelo, who had fallen to the back of the party after Vaan darted to Fran's side.

"That's what Balthier said," Penelo shrugged. She certainly believed it. The sky pirates had been _every_where, after all. They were almost like tourists, she fancied – at least, when people like Ba'Gamnan weren't hot on their heels. "Fran confirmed it, too."

Ashe tilted her head at that. "Do you believe Fran is above deceit?"

"Well…she looks like it to me." Penelo's eyes met the princess's. "They all do. Although, they do seem like the kind of people who are skillful at twisting their words around. So maybe they don't lie – but they're pretty good at being confusing. Which is just as deceptive, don't you think?"

A ghost of a smile graced Ashe's features. She was glad to be right, for once. This girl was much less naïve than her friend – not that Vaan was a boy to be trifled with. "Oh, yes."

Before the group, Basch and Vossler (and Vaan, or so he liked to think) struggled to push the fifteen-foot doors in their way open. So set in time was the material that the ground rumbled when the former captains finally succeeded.

"Nicely done," said Balthier, striding into the darkness ahead with Fran, Anya, and Vaan as the captains caught their breaths. Basch found himself accustomed to this attitude already and could only find amusement in his old friend's evident ire.

As soon as Vossler stepped inside, the large doors slammed shut, as if it hadn't taken two grown men half their energy to push them a third-way open before. Basch turned back and attempted to pull them back open from under, to no avail.

"Not again," Vaan grumbled. "This is going to be messy."

Penelo groped around in the darkness before bumping her nose into metal. Whoever it was didn't move. "F-Fran?"

"No."

"S-sorry, Vossler." Penelo was glad no one could see her humiliating herself, but still blushed about being the only one making unnecessary noises. In the background, Fran was chanting a Fira spell. There was just something about this week… "Vaan, what did you say?"

"Oh. I was talking about the Barheim Passage. You wouldn't know," Vaan replied. He hadn't meant to scathe, Penelo knew, but it still struck her with a pang of – jealousy.

"The Barheim," Balthier shuddered invisibly. "A nightmarish memory."

"I – I think we can forget about _that_ nightmarish memory for the time being …" Anya frowned, backing into Balthier. He squeezed her arm reassuringly in the dark and looked ahead.

High above in the darkness, two red eyes flashed at them menacingly. On cue, the torches at the far end of the chamber lit up first, revealing another glorious effigy of the Dynast-King – this time mounted on the wall below a terrace overlooking the area. Still, there were very long, very sharp and dangerous twin blades in its grip, and twelve – Balthier counted – claw-like appendages that served as its feet. With a pained rumble – he realized it was groaning to life – it started crawling for them. The torches on the bridge led its stride, illuminating the chamber with startling speed.

"By the gods…" Vossler unsheathed his sword. "What contraption is_ this_?"

"One certainly not meant for our convenience." Balthier shot directly into the monster's eye. It roared fiercely, but shook the bullet off with a flick of its head and started moving its mouth rapidly; its voice was like a thousand whispers trying to overpower each other. "What is it murmuring?"

"It sounds like a spell," said Penelo, "but I – I can't understand it. It's talking too fast—"

"_Tatah_, what's happening!" Anya reached out for Balthier, whose body was slowly being engulfed in a black fog.

He held his hand out to her but slipped through her arm. "What in the – Fran – Anya—"

He disappeared.

"Balthier!" Vaan and Penelo gasped.

"Keep firing!" Fran ordered, the first Ashe had seen of the fierceness allegedly inherent of the Viera race. "The wall comes; we must be quick! Together we can bring it down!"

Vossler and Basch drove forward, attempting to hack off the wall's appendages as they ducked from its mighty swings. Beside Fran (no one noticed the Viera's fingers shaking), Anya picked up Balthier's gun and shot at the monster – to no avail, and she realized she should have paid better attention to the man during shooting practice; Penelo and Ashe had it in their minds to try all the spells in their arsenal.

"Hey, look, these weren't here a few seconds ago..." Vaan distractedly approached one of the torches on the side of the bridge. Before it, there was what seemed to be a button with a small cup under it. As he pressed it without a thought, two small blades extended from the both sides of the button and cut the sides of his fingers. He pulled back furiously, glaring at the blades that had suddenly retracted, and at his own blood sinking into the cup's depths. "Ow! What…?"

"The – the wall!" Penelo cut her own spell off. "It's—slowed down?"

"Basch–" Vossler pointed to the torch behind him. "Go!"

Basch followed, and as he mimicked Vaan another pair of blades extended to draw his blood. He drew back, wiping the wound on his vest, and looked to the wall. "Well?" Vossler fell back on his posterior and rolled to the side as the wall thrust at him, gaining speed. He shook his head at Basch, who pulled him up and out of the wall's way. "I don't understand—"

"Whoa, what's…" Vaan raised a hand covered in black fog before disappearing completely.

"Vaan!" Penelo cried out as Ashe quit casting a Holy spell to dive for the last of the boy, only to land on her elbows and groan.

"Anya," Fran called from near one of the torches. Her right hand was bleeding slightly, and the wall had picked up its speed another time.

She whipped her head to face her, startled by the weakness in the Viera's tone. The fog had reached Fran as well. "_Amba_! No!"

"The torches," she managed, though the fog was rising in her throat. "I see now: the blood – it is your only–"

Vossler finally struck down hard enough to cause two of the wall's legs to fall off, but that didn't stop its crawling. "Damn…" His eyes reflected a blinding light as Penelo ran beside him, nearly screaming the finishing incantations to the Holy spell. The wall cried out, shielding its face with its blades, but Penelo was already fading. "No, child—"

"I have to find Vaan," she whispered, glaring straight at the demon wall, and was gone.

"Why did it hasten with Sir Basch and _Amba_…?" Anya wondered, still frozen in place. "_Amba_ mentioned…our only… what…?"

"Anya – out of the way!" Ashe yelled, dragging her into a sprint as Basch moved to shield them from the demon wall's violent swing.

The impact of the giant sword against Basch's threw him off the bridge, and he would have fallen into the darkness had Vossler not reached out to catch him at the last minute. "Thank you," Basch said when Vossler pulled him back onto the bridge. But there was something different about his old comrade… "Vossler, you're—!"

"And you," he said, disappointedly. "We must return quickly."

Together, they faded into the fog.

Only Ashe and Anya were left to face the demon wall, which still swung at them viciously – though it had stopped murmuring. Panic swirled around the two, a fog thicker than any the monster in the wall could conjure.

"Why does it not attack us with the fog?" Ashe blinked. "Is it because…we never attacked it? But Vaan—"

"The princess–" Anya mumbled to herself, "and the thief. Who'd have thought?"

Still backing away, Ashe glared at her. "Could you possibly take _any_thing seriously?"

"_How_ do we defeat a wall, Asheli–" Anya corrected herself again. "–Ashe? _Amba_ was saying something about…about blood. But that made no sense whatsoever!"

"If I had only proof of my lineage," Ashe said, "the others would be safe…"

"Oh, yes, that." Anya sighed. Why couldn't Anastacia shake it off – this brazen aloofness, this pretend courage? Had she really been playing this game for so long? Still, she gave a mock bow. "A thousand apologies."

Ashe turned to her, calmly at first, but that comment had sparked the little anger she had for Anya. "Come to think of it…had you and Vaan not stolen into the castle that night…Ghis wouldn't have taken the Dusk Shard and we wouldn't be in this situation!"

The demon wall was coming closer, but neither took heed of its roaring.

"I thought I had just apologized…" Anya seethed, still frustrated and thinking of how to proceed without Fran and Balthier, who had always been their trio's main fighters. "In my defense, Vaan would have taken that Stone whether or not _Amba_, _Tatah_, or I were there! And really – do you honestly think _I_ knew it was the Dusk Shard?"

"Yes!" Ashe scoffed. "The same way you knew where to find Raithwall's Tomb!"

"Oh, spare me, it's general knowledge—"

"Then_ why_ haven't the Archadians tried to take the Dawn Shard!"

"Clearly, they were all sent to _Faram_ knows where, courtesy of our friend here, this demon of a wall!"

"That isn't—" Ashe stopped, almost afraid to see through her peripherals. Anya's face mirrored her fear-filled gaze.

The demon wall was right above them, raising its swords slowly, so,_ so_ ready to get their blood splattered all over—Anya grabbed Ashe by the hand this time, and they squeezed hands hard as they ran till their bones felt crushed.

"The torches," Ashe panted once they were far enough, releasing her grip on the girl, "go!"

In a moment, Anya had a finger held before one of the buttons. "But what if it hastens, as it did with Sir Basch and _Amba_?"

"They're all we have left," said Ashe, standing by the fire across Anya's. "It is a chance we must take."

Even in this panic, from some distance, Anya could see the gentleness that had suddenly overtaken Ashelia's expression. It was the sister Anastacia had known. "All right," Anya muttered, squeezing her eyes shut, and pressed the button. She yelped when the blades drew her blood, but her eyes flew wide open when the torch flared even hotter, even larger, spinning out of proportion—and then its flame became a bright blue. All the flames on that side of the bridge grew, spinning, and switched to the same color.

"You—you did it," Ashe gasped, watching the sword held on Anya's side of the bridge stop, only to realize that the arm on her side was still swinging, still thrusting, and the wall was still advancing.

"Press it!" Anya screamed, trying to ignore the stinging cuts on her hand, and dove with her arms spread open to shield Ashe from the monster's coming blade.

Ashe pressed the button, crying out when her blood was spilled, and the sword on her side stopped swinging right before it reached the stray hair springing above Anya's head. As all the torches in the room spun and held a clear blue flame, the demon on the wall slowed to a screeching stop – and crumbled to dust.

Leaning against the edges, Ashe and Anya watched each other as they caught their breaths. Ashe thought the way the pirate girl panted should have rung a bell somewhere, but shook it off and tried to speak. Had it really been that easy? "How…?"

Anya could only shake her head in relief.

And then Basch reappeared before her, looking dazed. When he broke out of his thoughts, he turned his head and saw Anya. "This place…"

"Sir Basch!" cried the pirate, and was soon embracing him with all her might.

Ashe noticed that the former Captain returned her touch a mite too easily, too quickly for it to simply be relief, and watched them with a frown on her face. This was, of course, before Vossler arrived, though he arrived with a panic-stricken face and was about to run the princess over.

"Vossler," Ashe breathed, holding her arms up to stop him. With a sudden wave of emotion, she embraced him even tighter than Anya had Basch. "You're alive."

Shocked and still confused, Vossler choked out, "Your Majesty…"

From the corner of her eye, Anastacia spied Ashelia's tight grip on Vossler, and watched them with a frown on her face.

In between the two pairs, Penelo appeared.

Startled, Ashe and Anya pulled back and straightened themselves. Leaving Vossler and Basch to regain their senses fully, they approached the youngest girl and fussed over her too noisily to be natural.

"You'll never guess where I went—" Penelo shouted over their questions. When the two stopped to listen, she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Or was it a dream? I – I don't know. But I…met this boy. He was so oddly dressed, and he had silver hair – silver! Can you believe it? And he was born with that color…"

"Did you speak with him?" asked Anya.

"I could barely get a word in," Penelo sighed. "He was saying something—something about the _darkness_. And how he had to use its power to save his…friend…? I think. He looked really troubled, though he did say he knew someone who could help me find Vaan. We were in this creepy place he called Holl–"

"Penelo!" Everyone turned their heads to see, lying on the ground, none other than Vaan, who soon found his best friend and squeezed her shoulder in relief. "I was in this weird town at—in some alley place! I woke up beside this – this kid with spiky brown hair, who was just as confused as I was, and then this yellow dog with long, black ears came up to us and started licking us and it was really kind of disgusting, but…"

He noticed the pile of debris on the ground, as well as Basch, Vossler, Anya, and Ashe. "What happened to the wall?"

"No. Wait." Ashe turned to Vossler and Basch. "They found themselves in different places. Where did you go?"

"It was a nightmare, I am certain of it," Vossler shook his head, his heart still thumping from the experience. "As soon as you disappeared from my sight, I found myself standing along the road of a great, flashing city. But you see – it was about to be engulfed by waves, and wind, and a great, unfathomable being in the sky…it was fear incarnate. I only returned to my senses when I was pulled along by a boy not older than–" the man glanced at their latest arrival, "–than you, Vaan, and a slightly older man. Before we could reach our destination, I…found myself here again."

Ashe nodded, trying to imagine this being that seemed to strike so much fear in her knight's heart, when Anya spoke. "And you, sir Basch?"

"I was...lost in a crowd," replied Basch. "Far ahead, there was an airship – perhaps a tad smaller than the Dreadnought – and on it there was a young lady, singing, and though I could not give meaning to her words, a great hope filled me to the brim…"

Anya looked away with slight disappointment. A _young lady_, giving Basch hope in overflowing doses? She started to wish she could sing instead of just foolishly dancing. Or that he and Vossler had switched worlds instead.

"How lucky that you should merely find yourself in a little concert, Captain," came Balthier's voice. Anya nearly tackled him and Fran, walking side to side, both with a vexed countenance. "I had the great displeasure of encountering a man with long, silver hair – a mane longer than even Fran's, if you can find yourself without enough sanity to believe it – who simply wouldn't stop asking me about his mother." He rolled his eyes. "The way he flew off on that one wing of his, you'd think he fancied himself the leading man!"

"A one winged, silver-haired man who cares deeply about his mother? Was he handsome, too?" Anya received a raised eyebrow from Balthier and smiled sheepishly. "'Twas a mere quip…"

"Did you go anywhere interesting, Fran?" Penelo asked.

"Only a forest," she answered, "with glowing trees so thick I could not see the moon. There was a man there – he wore a red cape, his left hand was replaced by a golden claw, and his eyes…" she reached up to touch her cheek thoughtfully. "…were not unlike mine."

Balthier huffed. Anya snickered somewhere in the background. "Did he say a word, this perfect man?"

"He asked me if I knew where to purchase a _cellphone_," said Fran. "I am unsure what he meant."

"He was probably mental," Anya suggested, noticing Balthier's eyes already narrowing to slits. "Shall we move on?"

"Wait," Vaan waved his hands, catching up with the others stepping over the wall's ruins. "What happened with the wall monster?"

"We pressed on two torches right across each other," said Ashe, thanking Penelo for curing her cuts. "And then…the wall stopped. Crumbled. And the blue fire filled the room."

Balthier wondered if that was all there was to it. The ruins he and Fran had explored in Rozarria, though less preserved than this Tomb, had creatures never so easily put out by simple buttons. Basch echoed his thoughts. "Could it really be so simple? I had thought the wall would halt only when presented with proof of royal lineage."

_"I see now: the blood – it is your only–"_

_"…proof of royal lineage." _

It clicked in Anya's mind, but she hid her panic well. "Uh—we sky pirates are known for our impeccable knack for survival – that is to say, luck. Today, we are lucky enough to be spared from a good pulverizing. Why question the fates?"

Balthier rolled his eyes. Anya spoke with Basch about this fate business much too often for his comfort.

Fran observed her little pirate's sweating palms, which she had quickly stuffed in her pockets. So she _did_ know what their actions had proven.

As did another in the party, who frowned, watching the rest of them accept her pathetic excuse and move on. It was anything but luck.

**XIIXIIXII**

"More walking," Anya sighed, her eyes panning across the area. Clinging to the walls, there were floors and stairs and floors still to trudge through. The depths of the Tomb seemed unfathomable to her, an abyss no more measurable than the ocean.

"And there will be more, judging by the Tomb's size. The Rozarrian ruins were rats in comparison," Balthier chuckled. "In fact, that has me wondering about the lack of undead."

Vaan shuddered at the thought of walking skeletons and allowed Anya to use him as an arm rest for a few seconds. "Weren't you saying something about stamina yesterday morning?"

"I have a plenitude of stamina," Anya replied. "Of course, a little complaining is healthy every now and again."

"How familiar," Fran remarked. Shrugging, Balthier guiltily allowed a little smile to play on his mouth.

Vossler and Ashe stood at the top of the stairs, surveying the Tomb and its ancient splendor. Vossler's eyes inevitably landed on the rest of the party. Seeing Vaan and Penelo racing down the steps, he remembered that Basch had always managed to find himself on favorable terms with most who met him, but he still cringed at the sight of his old friend also freely fraternizing with the pirates, as though they were as innocent as the children who had brought themselves along on this journey.

"It wounds me to look on as they pillage so solemn a place."

Ashe looked at his face and followed his gaze. She remembered their steady focus on income – the Urutan's treasure, the Garuda's feathers – but she did not forget Fran's waking up earlier than her supposed shift the night before so _she_ could have her rest, and Anya's willingness to throw herself before the demon wall in her place (she suspected that she had gone insane for a few moments, because no pirate in their right mind would do such a thing; at least, if what she had been taught about pirates since her youth were accurate). "Yet without help, you and I are as nothing," she answered after a long pause. "Is this not so?"

"…"

"They think ever and always on their own profit," she continued. "Assure them of it, and they shall remain true to our cause."

Vossler turned away in frustration. That Dalmasca should need the aid of pirates to secure its freedom! "I do not share Your Majesty's trust."

"Ashe! Vossler!" Vaan had been jumping for a quarter of a minute already, trying to catch their attention from the bottom of the stairs. "Come on, we found more of those transporting posts!"

"Way stones," Balthier whispered.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But I've always had a penchant for names." He winked at Anya, who smirked in reply.

"We will continue this later," Ashe muttered, disheartened by Vossler's lack of trust in her discernment, and began descending the stairs. "Now we should concern ourselves with finding the Dawn Shard."

Three more Way Stones formed a triangle on the landing they reached. Nearest them the lamp was blue, and on the two farther ends pulsated red and green. Their glow was dim, however, and their bases didn't spin as the Way Stones by the entrance.

"They're not working," Vaan observed, touching the blue one repeatedly. When the others tried touching the red and the green Stones, he sighed. "Don't you guys trust me? Look at the lamps. It's like they don't have power at all."

"He's right," Balthier conceded. "Which – leaves us to the stairs."

He and Anya cringed at each other. "More walking."

"You were much less sluggish in the Garamsythe," Ashe remarked, eyeing Anya curiously. "Almost agile."

"I _am_ agile." Anya crossed her arms. "But even the sly need a considerable amount of sleep. We had close to none last night, if you can recall."

Basch could state two reasons why that was, in her case, but it was the last thing on his mind. "Shall we follow the green Stone or the red?"

Vossler's eyes followed the endless flights downward and frowned. "This will take too long. As in the Dreadnought, we halve and take one path each."

"All right then," Balthier shrugged. "Let's move – Fran, Anya, and…" Penelo and Vaan looked displaced. "Which one of you will join us?"

"No." Vossler frowned. "On the occasion that you find the Dawn Shard, how are we assured that you will surrender it to us?"

"You aren't." Balthier rolled his eyes at another one of Vossler's glares. "This was _your_ plan."

Ashe sighed and took her place beside Fran. "I will join them."

"Your Majesty!"

"In exchange for one of you," said the princess to the leading pirate. "That way…we are all assured of each other's cooperation."

"Fine," said Balthier.

"In exchange for our princess," said Vossler, "we will take _your _own."

Balthier's expression soured at the words 'your' and 'princess' in a sentence directed to them. "What did you say?"

"You treat her preciously," Vossler explained with a smile usually found on Balthier's face, "as one treats a princess. That is all I meant."

Basch, Vaan, Ashe, and Penelo watched the exchange ignorantly and wondered if they had missed some secret conversation that had preceded this one.

"I will accompany them," said Anya, taking her place beside Vossler, who smirked at Balthier. "It's only…fair, I suppose."

"You may join us as well, child," Vossler beckoned to Penelo, because he had no time for the noise he knew Vaan and Anya would create.

"You're with us, then," Balthier said to Vaan. The boy eagerly joined them on the red path, though he did give Penelo an encouraging smile before parting with her.

"Soon, _Amba_," Anya echoed Fran's words in the Dreadnought.

Before following Balthier, who had already started downward, the Viera placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not soon enough."

**XIIXIIXII**

No sooner had Balthier's party entered the first door they came upon than the living dead attacked them.

Vaan made a face at their foam green color, but expertly knocked a head off one anyway. Its body continued to move. "What–?"

Ashe was too busy trying to take them apart with her sword and her left hand, now covered in dust and cobwebs, to pay attention to him. Fran held an index finger up to silence him first and only let him speak when she had set two more corpses on fire.

"Why aren't they dead?"

"Actually, they are," said Balthier, whacking a head off with his gun and tipping its body over with a swift kick. "These are Lost Souls. The only way to immobilize the bodies completely is to pulverize them – literally, I'm afraid…"

Fran took a deep breath. "Firaga!" The surrounding monsters caught an intense fire. Balthier, Vaan, and Ashe backed away, the flames quickly drawing their sweat. Fran shielded her eyes and lowered her hands when there was only dust left on the floor.

"…Or burn them to a crisp," Balthier finished.

"Wow." Vaan wiped the sweat off his face, clearly relieved. "Fastest scorching I've ever seen."

Supporting Fran, who had lost a considerable amount of energy, Balthier raised an eyebrow at the boy. "You've seen a good scorching?"

"No, but that was pretty fast, right?"

"It was," Ashe nodded, dabbing her face with a handkerchief hidden somewhere on her person to hide her amazement. "Four consecutive high leveled spells… Under normal circumstances, Fran shouldn't be conscious."

"Perhaps trespassing on holy ground has never been commonplace for _you_," said Balthier, earning a frown from the princess, but he continued, "but those of us who find this routine know…places like these, magick can be your strongest ally and your worst enemy. Let's hope it stays the first, hmm?"

"How is it you know all this?"

"All it takes is a bit of reading in the right places. And know the right people, too – though I'm afraid it's not a thing you can achieve if you narrow your acquaintances down to only insurgents. They're an awful bloody lot – who needs to talk when we can wave our bloody swords around?– they always say."

Ashe frowned. "That is unjust. You have such a hatred of _insurgents_ – why?"

"Hatred?" asked Balthier, wearing a confused face to feign innocence. "Much too taxing on a sky pirate's nerves. All I mean is – you would do to think a little before acting. Otherwise, the fete night – my condolences, of course – might have ended on a less bloody note."

Ashe clenched her fist. "I had been thinking for _two years_," she hissed. "The dawn for my kingdom could wait no longer."

Fran shook her head against Balthier's – there was no point in trying to convince a vengeful princess of a sky pirate's principles, she told him. Balthier understood and nodded at Ashe. "Whatever makes you happy."

Vaan sighed in relief. He liked Fran and Balthier, but he liked Ashe, too. It was never fun to watch them fight, Anya had shared with him before, and now he agreed. "Okay, so…" He put his hands together behind his head and fell into step with Ashe. The pirates were leading, murmuring between themselves the way he figured they were used to. "I don't get it. How did the Empire get its hands on the Midlight Shard?"

He was almost sorry to have asked when he saw the princess's pained expression, no doubt drawn out by the mention of something so closely related to Nabradia, but his curiosity got the better of him and she was going to answer anyway.

"We were never sure," Ashe replied, a distant look in her eyes. "After Anastacia's sixteenth birthday–" Noting Vaan's confusion, she explained, her chest tight, "Anastacia was Rasler's younger sister. A week after her sixteenth birthday, we received word that the Empire was planning to invade Nabradia. My father-in-law King Perraen was quick to send Rasler and Anastacia to Rabanastre, but he remained in Nabudis. Still, for fear of the Empire finding the Midlight Shard on the occasion that he or his children were captured, he left it in the care of Rasler and Anastacia's governess, Lady Beivinn, a woman with the fiercest loyalty to the royal family. But when the entire kingdom of Nabradia collapsed in a fell swoop, we knew the Shard to be in the Empire's hands."

"But how did they find that governess?"

Ashe could only guess. "The Nabradian royal family sent her far away; almost as far as Nalbina. The Imperials must have scoured the land for that Shard."

"Yeah," Vaan agreed, and Ashe could see a darkness in his eyes she had seen in her own many times before. "Like Balthier said… they stop at nothing for power."

"Balthier said that?"

"Well, yeah…but not about Imperials. I'm not sure who he was talking to then. It's pretty applicable to the Empire though, huh?"

Ashe nodded. "But I have a feeling he said that about an Archadian as well."

"Why?" Vaan watched Balthier, expertly weaving through the dungeon with Fran at his side. Occasionally, Fran would explore ahead and return to inform them of whether they could move on or if it was a dead end. "They never talk about going to Archadia. I think they avoid that place at all costs…'specially since that Ba'Gamnan guy works for a Judge Magister."

Ashe wondered who Ba'Gamnan was, but continued. "Listen to the way he speaks. His accent is different from all of ours. He's Archadian; though that doesn't mean he wants to be."

Vaan snorted in surprise. "What? No way! Basch kind of has the same accent."

"Basch is from the Old Republic of Landis," Ashe explained. "They sound alike, but if you've heard enough Archadians, you know they're different. Larsa – he has the exact same accent. So polished, so – arrogant, though _he_ may not intend to be."

Vaan's old thought in the Lhusu mines – that the two people with the same accents needed to stop talking – resurfaced. He frowned. "…Oh, yeah. So Balthier is an Archadian…"

"He _was_," Ashe corrected him. "Although he may speak like them, sky pirates choose their profession with the intent of stripping themselves free from the bonds of citizenship. They go wherever they please – but they belong nowhere. As is the case with Fran and Anya."

"How about that place – Balf…something. I overheard Anya saying that was where the riffraff and scum of Ivalice lived. I think she was being sarcastic, because Basch was about to say something about it. I think she lived there for a while."

"The Port of Balfonheim," Ashe nodded. "A breeding ground for pirates and headhunters alike. Last I heard of it, at least."

"Oh, so—"

_"F-follow swift…" _

Balthier leaned lazily against an archway, his body emitting an odd grayish glow. With a creepy smile on his lips, he beckoned to them.

"Balthier?" Vaan stepped toward him cautiously. "You look different."

"Where's Fran?" asked Ashe, holding Vaan back by the shoulder. "I didn't hear her running off…"

_"Follow…"_ Balthier repeated, his voice noticeably hollow.

Vaan shrugged Ashe's hand off and walked up to Balthier. Grabbing the pirate by the sleeve, he asked, "What is wrong with…hey, did you get taller?"

"Vaan…"

"What?" His eyebrows furrowed when he saw Ashe standing frozen in her spot. "Don't you see the height difference?"

"He's—"

_"FOLLOW!" _Balthier shrieked, and only then did Vaan realize that the man was floating a foot off the floor. As he continued to bellow at the boy, the vision of the pirate received shackles that floated around his wrists and his head. His eyes disappeared, leaving webby sockets, and his mouth stretched wide open, farther than Vaan knew possible. And then Balthier's form faded away completely.

"Y-you're not Balthier…"

**XIIXIIXII**

The dust and the age were beginning to get to Penelo's throat. She was accustomed to wandering around areas with not-so-sanitary conditions, but they had never been this old or deep. The scary thing was that no matter how deep in the desert structure they were, where there barely seemed to be any air, it wasn't hot. It wasn't cold, either, but chilly, and often she would feel goosebumps rise in her skin for no apparent reason. There were odd, colorful particles in the air touching her, too; if her eyesight served her correctly, they were drawn to her and Anya, but they only drifted by Vossler and Basch. Penelo tried to wave the particles away, but they seemed unaffected and only served to make everyone watch her with confused expressions.

Beside her, Anya wondered out loud, "What are you batting away there, Penelo?"

"Oh, nothing," Penelo laughed nervously, clasping her hands together on her staff behind her. "Sorry. Those Seekers are everywhere; I thought one flew by me just now. You – didn't see it?"

"No…" Anya was busy staring at the walls, watching their highs and lows and markings, trying to discern in her mind if they were familiar or if she was only imagining things. "Didn't see a thing."

"I have a feeling that we may be going in circles," Penelo whispered to Anya. "I'm pretty sure we've already passed this hall."

"So it wasn't just my imagination!" Anya sighed. "I'm not surprised._ Tatah _tells me never to depend on anything but _Amba_'s nose when it comes to avoiding getting lost. Oh, and a map, of course. But I suppose this place wasn't meant to be mapped out." She threw a sidelong glance at Basch's pocket, squinting as if she could see through its material that way, but turned her gaze ahead upon seeing nothing.

"We are _not_ lost," said Vossler, shooting the two girls a look through the corner of his eye.

"Perhaps we should have left breadcrumbs," Anya mumbled.

Basch shared a secret smile with her, the smile shared between friends who meet again after having been apart for ages and find they still have the same sense of humor as in their days of old – only they weren't old friends, and he felt something different in him stir when she smiled back.

Vossler, unaware of the exchange going on behind him, strode forward indignantly. Only – his foot was stuck to the floor. Grunting, he attempted to pull it back, only to find an odd white thing – shackles? – rooted to the ground, wrapped tightly around his ankle. "What–"

Penelo gagged. Either she was hallucinating, or a pile of bones was crawling out – from the floor – and using Vossler's ankle as leverage. When Basch struck at the monster's head, Penelo realized it was a skeleton wearing some sort of headdress (and that she certainly wasn't seeing things). The bare arm fell limp, and Vossler was able to pry its fingers from his ankle.

He rose to thank Basch, but by then they were already surrounded by three more skeletons adorned with fancy headdresses and two with cloth draped over their heads, reminiscent of the Urutan-Yensa style.

"Déjà vu?" Basch offered to Anya beside him, wearing an exasperated grin.

"Perhaps."

"Do you think it's possible – that I stay conscious till the end of the battle?"

Anya snorted. "It's a good thing you're carrying my pouch, then."

They dove in for the kill – only these undead were a bit harder than they expected, and in the crossfire, Vossler received a large sword gash across the arm that wasn't nearly eaten by the Garuda earlier. Basch made quick work of the rest, though he, too, received a burn from one of the hooded skeleton mages.

"What was that?" Penelo gasped, clutching at the fear in her chest. Vossler turned his gaze to Basch, just as unnerved.

"The undead," said Basch, realizing only he and Anya had ever dealt with them. "They are immobilized upon capacitation."

Vossler frowned. "And you couldn't have shared that before they drove at us madly?"

"I'm sorry."

"Uh – here. I'll heal you." Penelo took Vossler to sit against the wall and uttered a curative spell. She was still afraid of the man, but he wasn't cruel, and he did have a point. Still, Basch looked ashamed enough and she figured Anya – who obviously didn't like Vossler with the way she had been avoiding the man since the sandseas – could cheer him up with some words of her own.

Anya brought Basch to the opposite wall, figuring Vossler would be even more aggravated at seeing his friend fraternizing with a pirate right beside him. Basch was clearly apologetic (as always), and confused – as if he couldn't understand how he had forgotten to inform Vossler and Penelo of their enemies' weaknesses.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Anya said to him, curing his burns. "I'm sure he doesn't blame _you_. Most likely he believes it's my bad influence."

"Vossler…isn't that unreasonable," Basch said slowly, as if trying to force himself into believing it, too. "I was simply distracted, that's all. It had nothing to do with you. As soon as we leave this place with the Shard, everything will be set right."

Anya glanced at the hall exit they had been heading for before they were attacked. Did he really think that was true? Now that she wasn't being sidetracked by the allure of sweet ice cream, she thought on Vaan's words on the _Strahl_ and realized the boy was right. If Ghis was setting a trap…

No, no, she told herself. No use worrying about it, her _Tatah_ always said. After all, there was still the task of finding the Shard and escaping the Tomb. Anya frowned. At this rate, they were never going to be able to leave this place, and her fellow sky pirates were going to win the race and finish their side of the Tomb first. Perhaps she should have shoved her _Tatah_ forward when Vossler was asking for a bargaining chip – then she would have _Amba_'s nose and she wouldn't be going around in circles. Of course, there was that secret thought, that she would never mind finding herself completely lost at Sir Basch's side, but this wasn't the time to daydream and there was still Vossler to deal with.

Anya squinted at Basch's pockets again. Leaning closer, she whispered, "Do you still have the pendant I – the Marquis Ondore gave you?"

Having been inspecting his now numb forearm, Basch involuntarily crouched back against the wall at the feeling of Anya's breath in his ear. "Th-the pendant," he said, blinking himself back to reality, "yes, of course. Why do you…?"

"May I borrow it?" Anya asked, staring intently at his pockets. Anastacia secretly wondered if she would ever be able to wear it proudly again. "A close friend once told me…"

Basch reached into his right pocket and held it out for Anya, his eyes very guiltily watching Vossler. He was grateful to see him still busy speaking with Penelo. "What?"

Anya held the pendant gingerly, with only her index finger and thumb, and flipped it over on Basch's palm. "The pendants carrying the royal seals of Houses Dalmasca and Nabradia – those issued for the Royal Families, that is – had maps for two of three great structures from the era of the Galtean Alliance. Raithwall's line should have had the map for the other, but their crest has been lost since…a long time ago. I wonder…" Anya shined the back of the pendant with the edge of her singlet and saw, though the scratches on the metal were light and almost seemingly a random conjunction of lines and shapes, the path they had followed from the first Way Stone until the hall with the three dim Way Stones. From that square, the lines branched out – as their party had branched out, as the Tomb's paths branched out… "This is it. The Nabradian crest carries the map of the Tomb. I had always thought it would be the Stilshrine…"

Basch wondered if she was still aware of his presence – he hadn't been sure if she was speaking with him or to the pendant itself. Still, he saw what she saw: their way in and out of the Tomb. There were deeply engraved dots signifying the Way Stones, and one great square at the end of all the lines – the Shard?

"Anya." Basch closed his fist on the pendant to regain her attention. "How is it you know information only those of royal blood should have been privy to? Not even the greatest spies could know this…" Or could they? He was beginning to wonder how something so crucial could have leaked out of Houses Dalmasca and Nabradia.

Anya and Anastacia thought fast – this was what she had undergone training from Balthier for. To lie, to steal – to live, and fast – she kept her head down as she sighed. "I…had been meaning to keep it a secret, but…"

Basch watched her for her answer intently.

"I was a servant in the Nabradian household – no older than Princess Anastacia herself. There were secret passages around Castle Nabudis. She…she found one, once, while playing hide and seek with Prince Rasler, and found me in one of the guest rooms. M-My father had sent me there to clean. We became friends, and when Prince Rasler was out training and Lady Beivinn had her own work to do, she visited me and we played together. I grew up with her…with Princess Anastacia. She was like a sister to me – and when she could no longer take the secrecy her position imposed, she told me…everything. Everything she knew."

Basch reeled. Anya's story did fit. The princess would disappear, most times, when Lady Beivinn and Rasler were out and he had been sent to look after her from afar, and he could never find her. Had he and Anya truly been so close to each other before and never known it? It bothered him, in a way, and... "But – Her Highness was sworn to secrecy. She could never have divulged…"

Anastacia was glad he thought she wouldn't – and she wouldn't, and never did, of course, until the situation called for it – as it did now. "Do not think ill of her, please…" Anya couldn't bear it if he did. "She swore me to secrecy as well. As you can see, I've never told anyone…not even _Amba_ or _Tatah_. It's only now…"

Basch watched her carefully. To think they had both served the royal families at one point and never met – it widened the world just a little. And yet he couldn't help but think that she was lying, somehow. Her loyalty to Princess Anastacia, he couldn't find himself to question; the way she spoke of the girl reminded him of the fondness in Lady Beivinn's tone from so long ago, but there was definitely something off about what Anya had said. Basch supposed he would find out sooner or later. So far, she knew more of him that anyone had ever discovered – and it seemed he knew more of her than anyone did, too, if not even Balthier and Fran knew of this map. He wondered if it was wrong to – but he trusted her to tell him the truth when she was ready.

"Hey guys, what's that?"

Basch and Anya met widened eyes before the former stashed his hand behind his back. "Ah – Penelo, it's – where is Vossler?"

"Why do you have this?" Vossler's demanded. Walking around from behind Basch, he held the pendant in his hand. Everything was starting to get clearer, but he couldn't let the others know until he was certain. "Basch – you showed it to this pirate before Her Majesty? Where did you even find this?"

"Vossler, I would–" Basch frowned. "The Marquis Ondore gave it to me."

"I'd have thought you'd stolen it by now," Vossler spat at Anya. "Touched it, did you? As always, a pirate tainting that which is sacred…"

"Vossler, you _will _see reason," said Basch, shoving his old friend back slightly. Both of them were surprised at what he had done, but Basch decided it was too late now. "Anya was a servant at Castle Nabudis before…all this. Lady Anastacia told her about this…" He showed him the map behind the pendant. "Do you see it? The paths we've taken lead to only one great hall. Taking the linear way from there, I believe we will find the Shard."

"Do you believe everything she says?" Vossler wouldn't drop the subject. How could he, when his once sharp friend was beginning to lose good judgment over…over what? What did this liar – this great truant, if he was correct – mean to him? "She is a pirate! Trained to lie, no matter her origins! You cannot trust her."

"Yet I do," said Basch, holding Vossler's gaze. "She may not be entirely truthful, but who are we to judge? It is unjust…"

"Dalmasca's future is at stake here," said Vossler, "And you worry about being…fair? Being just?"

"I was in that cage for two years, Vossler. Yet I did not lose sight of who I was – in aiming to free ourselves from the Empire, we cannot become like them!"

Vossler closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "It is you who will not see reason…give me the pendant, Basch."

"Sir Basch, no—" Anya started. It was hers and she had given it to Basch – Vossler had no right to even look at it.

"Why not?" Vossler dared her. "You have no claim on this pendant. It belongs to Her Majesty now, the Lady Ashe. Do you object?"

Anya and Anastacia thought hard again, weighing the importance of possession compared with her _Amba_ and _Tatah_, and dropped her head. "All right," she muttered, turning away from the others. "You win this time."

Penelo wondered if it was this chaotic on Vaan's side.

**XIIXIIXII**

Vaan clutched his chest, slowly falling back against the archway. He had seen zombies before – lots of them in the Lhusu mines, and by this time had already grown so accustomed to them, he wouldn't have been surprised if they popped up as another race in Dalmasca – but he had never encountered a ghost until that moment.

It had let out a scream worse than Penelo's when she was really angry with him, and he was the one – not Ashe, the princess – who had fallen back against his companion in pure, unabashed fear. How could he ever defeat a ghost? There wasn't a head to be cut off, he wasn't as practiced in magick as Penelo was, so he didn't know any good spells (he had trouble mastering anything past Cure, for Migelo's sake!). Luckily, Fran and the _real_ Balthier, who had been walking far ahead without noticing the other two, recognized the Lich's cry and came bounding to their rescue.

Vaan wheezed. "That…that…"

"It is called a Lich," Fran explained, her gaze alternating between Vaan and Ashe, who was just as shaken as the former, but was holding herself together with a little less transparency. "A spirit so old and angry that it has completely lost its former self. It will take on the appearance of a friend to lower your guard…and kill you, so you might live a terrible death, forever, as it has."

"And how do you defeat it?" asked Ashe, attempting to regain her composure.

"A simple Holy spell will do," said Balthier, watching them with little interest. In truth, he understood their situation. When he had encountered his first Lich in Rozarria, his beliefs had been so shaken, Fran had to hide him from Anya and Nono for a week. If this was the fate of the dead, what had happened to his mother? Had her violent death been all for naught – was she roaming the world at this very moment, mindless and filled with timeless fury? And then Fran had explained, as he was about to now, "Don't worry. A Lich is borne of a death by the ancient magicks. These ghosts are thousands of years old – we've lost the magick of the Galtean Alliance. Whoever you have lost, there is no chance that they could have become anything like it."

Vaan and Ashe glanced at each other, different names in their minds – Reks, Rasler, their parents – but the same relief etched on their faces. The fear, the hopelessness in the air dissipated.

Balthier let Fran move ahead. "Shall we move on?"

Perhaps pirates did have hearts, Ashe thought, watching a once again brave Vaan talk animatedly with Balthier. Of course, they needed her to be alive if they wanted to get past Vossler at a later time, but it hadn't been necessary to quell Vaan's – and her – fears. She had been so worried; what if her father's poor soul still wandered about Nalbina, furious and tired? What if Anastacia's mournful spirit was still in her room, where she had hung herself? Looking back, she hadn't felt a thing – not even goosebumps, as she cried there silently after Uncle Halim left her – nor had she heard even a whisper, or a cold breeze, as the stories with ghouls went. But now… they were searching for ancient magick in an ancient relic: the Dawn Shard. Would the ghosts come again, if she followed this path? Could she win without the help of the gods of old?

Ashe shook her head. There was no other recourse.

The way Fran cleared was short; Vaan wondered if it was this easy on Penelo's side of the Tomb, too. In the last hall there was a pillar with a bead of light so small they wouldn't have noticed it if a skeleton hadn't nearly cracked Vaan's own skull against it. He pressed it, causing a side of the dead end to lower itself halfway, and the red Way Stone in the room to start spinning. It also spawned a crowd of undead large enough to suffocate those still living in the room, but with Ashe more knowledgeable in the ways of death made twice, they subdued the horde more easily this time.

"It leads to another room, possibly as large as the hall of the three Way Stones," Fran said as they stared up at the half-lowered wall. "Can you feel the draft coming in?"

"The question is: how do we get past this?" said Balthier, eyeing Vaan, Fran, and Ashe. Had Anya been here, they would have tossed her over eons ago. But these two – technically strangers – he couldn't throw over walls like such. Ashe seemed much lighter than Anya, but she didn't seem the type to let anyone (perhaps with the exception of Vossler?) carry her anywhere.

"Do you think the stairs Penelo and the others took leads to some place like this, too?" Vaan asked, poking around the walls for a nonexistent connecting door. "I mean, if this Way Stone is connected to the one in that great hall, shouldn't the green one be connected to their way, too?"

"Maybe," said Ashe, wondering if they could blow the wall away without having the entire Tomb collapse on them. "Your point?"

Vaan shrugged, and as if this were the last syllable to a magic spell, the wall lowered itself completely.

Ashe glanced at him, shocked. "Did you…?"

"No!" he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, and hurriedly followed Balthier into the next hallway.

The pirate captain snorted at him in amusement once they were farther away from the other two. "A perfect opportunity to take credit for an achievement – and you let it pass. I hadn't thought you needed to learn this much…"

Vaan would have retorted – not with something scathing or very intelligent, perhaps, but it was a retort that was in his mind all the same – but Balthier had already opened the tall doors into the next area and strode in.

Torches. Too many to count, in fact, but Vaan tried anyway. Although it didn't seem as endless, it was much wider. The floors still held close to the walls, and Vaan peeked over the railings to find an intricate platform at the very bottom of the place. He saw no Stones, but there was a large door down across his side of the wall. He felt something thump at his heart – he knew where they had to go before anyone else did – ah, pride. It felt good. He liked being right.

"Vaan!"

On the same level, Penelo and Anya were waving at him from all the way across the area.

"I knew it!" he said to himself, turning around to tell his companions that he was right; there was some sort of connection! Only there was no one behind him.

"Coming, Vaan?" Ashe asked, her voice coming from somewhere northwest of him…he blinked. When did everyone get down there without him? Their two groups had joined together again; Ashe was in line with Vossler, Fran was speaking with Balthier, and Anya walked in between Basch and Penelo. They were on their way down the stairs, and why was he always the last to follow? It just wasn't fair…

Penelo giggled at him when he finally caught up with them. "You know, we were beginning to think you were trapped under some sort of spell."

"I'm starting to think you're all on Haste and someone's forgetting to cast it on me…" Vaan mumbled, but allowed his friend to change the subject as they descended the area.

Vossler clenched the pendant in his left hand. As soon as his eyes met Ashe's, he held it out to her. "Your Majesty – forgive me. I had almost forgotten…"

For a moment, Anya could have likened Ashelia's eyes to saucers. The Dalmascan princess backed away. "Vossler…where...?"

"The Marquis Ondore bid me return it to you, its now rightful owner," replied Vossler, taking Ashe's hand and making her accept the pendant's passing on to her.

Unlike Anya before her, Ashelia felt the seal sting as it touched her flesh. Taking this meant accepting Anastacia's death for what it was – a reality. Vossler had known that somewhere, in the nearly microscopic part of her that still dreamed, she had hoped that her sister was still alive. Knowing her Uncle wanted her to have it, too, meant…

Ashe covered her mouth with her free hand, her eyes closing instinctively. Anastacia knew what she was doing – her quickened breathing, the shine in her eyes before they had shut; she was crying. At least, she was about to. And Vossler had given her _her_ pendant, saying Uncle Halim had given it to him to give to her… Didn't Ashelia know their uncle better? He would have wanted her to hope, the way he had hoped, and discovered her within Anya, who turned away from the scene quickly. She didn't want Anastacia to feel for the princess more than she already had and risk doing something completely idiotic like expose herself.

Vossler knew that she would react this way, but she herself had forced his hand. The Lady Ashe had hoped against hope that her sister-in-law was still alive – it was useless, just as fruitless as this venture… He shook his head. Perhaps the fallen princess was still alive, but she was a ghost of the lively child he once knew. It pained him to see one with so much promise as Lord Rasler's sister lose all hope and turn to sky piracy, but that was her choice – it wasn't his place to force her to reveal herself if she chose to betray the kingdom that had taken care of her, that had mothered her like its own daughter, even for just a political match. Just as it wasn't her place to hinder Her Majesty from freeing the country she had deserted.

Ashe wasn't really crying. She did, for a second, until Penelo turned to her in curiosity and she was forced to swallow reality down. The pendant was still in near perfect condition – no doubt Uncle Halim kept it that way – to the point that it mocked her. Here it was, meaningless proof that Nabradia truly existed once, when the gods knew she would have given up that kingdom if only to see her sister alive and happy again.

"Ashe, are you all right?" Penelo asked, approaching her quietly.

The rest stopped and turned their heads. Gifted with an eye for detail, truly born to be pirates, Balthier and Fran spotted the crest in Ashe's hand. They glanced over to Anya (who was busy feigning nonchalance and total innocence) and at each other. Could it be? The pendant – the same one that had earned them all the _Strahl'_s improvements and safe passage out of Bhujerba without suspicion – was in their presence again. Only this time, it was in the hands of another princess.

"I'm fine," said Ashe, smiling slightly at Penelo, who nodded and unsurely returned to Vaan. "Don't worry about me."

Vossler whispered the secret to her – the map – which prompted the princess to ask how he had known such a thing, when it was a fact known only to the royals. Her knight claimed to realize it on his own, and she accepted it without so much as a smidgeon of doubt.

"He lied to her," said Anya, falling to the back of the party with Basch. "It wasn't _bestowed_ upon him, he just took it!"

Wondering when he had become comfortable with Anya enough to hold her shoulder without feeling awkward, Basch remembered that night under the moon, in the Sandsea, but focused on calming her down. "There isn't a thing Vossler does without reason," he whispered to her. "The Lady Ashe wouldn't have taken to the knowledge of Anastacia sharing something so grave to you very kindly. In a way, he has protected you."

Anya sighed. He always had a way of making everything sound positive. "Doesn't it irritate you, Sir Basch – always being right?"

Basch chuckled. "Anya, you—"

Someone cleared his throat before them. Basch removed his hand from her shoulder as if burnt and took his leave of her upon receiving a sharp glare.

"Anya, I must ask you something."

Refraining from looking back to Basch nervously, Anya replied, "Anything."

When he was sure no one was eavesdropping on them, Balthier spoke. "That pendant – would you happen to know how it got here?"

Anya secretly thanked Vossler for taking all the credit for himself. "Vossler says the Marquis Ondore gave it to him – to give to her."

"Simple as that, hmm?"

"Simple as that."

Balthier thought about it for a moment, and after deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, shared the events on their side of the Tomb much like she told him theirs, only he didn't lie at all.

"I hope Ashe is okay," Penelo said to Fran, watching the princess guide them down the stairs, the pendant still enclosed in her fist. "I mean, she looked pretty unstable there for a moment."

"The pendant reminded her of her family," said Fran, catching Balthier and Anya speaking. "Clearly, it does not occur all too often. But she will be all right."

Penelo nodded. "I hope so." She clicked her tongue. "Is it just me, or are there weird particles floating around in the air here? They cling to you, me, Ashe, Anya, and a little to Balthier, but hardly to the rest. Is this some sort of fog underground?"

Fran looked around, unsurprised. "Not fog – Mist."

"You can see the Mist? With your eyes?"

"Where it is thick enough, you may. The Nether runs deep in this place."

Penelo frowned at the colored air coming towards her and tried not to bat it away again. "So is the Mist dangerous?"

It looked almost as though Fran could catch the particles with her fingernails. "Yes, but it is also an aid. A dense Mist allows the working of powerful magicks."

"Hmm…I'll keep that in mind." She looked back to Vaan, who had left Basch to join Balthier and Anya in conversation. "Can't expect him to keep track of these things, that's for sure."

Fran could only smile. It always began this way.

The bottom, when they finally reached it, was not as grand as Vaan imagined. At least he thought that way, until Ashe attempted to enter the door leading to the Dawn Shard – and a Gigas materialized, drawing its sword from the depths of hell and wielding it furiously against those who dared pass without its permission.

It spoke little – "_TRESSPASSERS. DIE_,"seemed to be its idea of a well-thought conversation, and then it plunged in and nearly stepped on Vaan.

"I stand corrected," said Balthier, watching Basch tug Vaan up so hurriedly the boy nearly flew off the ground. "They always do come after you."

"Right?" Vaan groaned. "What've I ever done…?"

Ducking out of the way of another violent swing, Anya suggested, "Maybe they all think you look good to eat?"

Penelo stopped casting a Water spell and shuddered. "This…this thing eats people!"

"Be quiet!" Vossler yelled at all of them. "Concentrate on the fight!"

_What_ fight, Fran wondered. It seemed nearly impossible to win against this four-armed, curl-horned monster. She gazed into its fiery mane and saw only death, listened to its hooves pounding on the floor for a weakness in the limbs and heard only the loss of her partners' life – or it could be that Balthier's dramatics were beginning to rub off on her.

They tried roping it down, but only succeeded in bringing it to its knees before the rope caught fire on its mane and burned to a crisp. Only the female half of the party knew the Water spell, and they were too busy running from the monster to cast consecutively and do any real damage. Their swords did nothing but heat up and sear their fingers once they touched the Gigas' skin, and Balthier's shots and Fran's arrows did nothing but infuriate the guardian Esper even more.

"This is pointless," said Penelo, backing into a corner and casting a healing spell to the party from there. "He's…unbeatable."

"It seems as if only another monster like it can defeat it," Anya agreed.

"It guards the Dynast-King's tomb, ever faithful," Fran replied, staring pointedly at Ashe. "If one could find a way to have it obey her own wishes…"

"How?" Ashe asked. Her fingers trembled at the thought of even having to face that giant again. "It is ruthless, blind to reason!"

Fran watched the Gigas stomp around the platform, hacking at the men as they served as decoys while the women rested. "It seems to think well enough to speak."

"You would have me reason with it?"

"We have tried everything else."

Ashe turned her gaze back to the Gigas. Had Fran finally gone insane? Up until that point, she had thought the Viera wise beyond her years, knowing in most of the world's ways, but what she was saying now was – Vossler tried to face it head on, and the monster raised its sword, ready to cleave it down – completely nonsensical in the least, but her only choice.

"Stop!" she cried, running out to shield Vossler as Anya had shielded her before the demon wall. "Don't hurt him!"

"Ashel—Ashe!" Anya ran out after her, grabbing her arm and attempting to pull her back, but froze when she realized they were defenseless before the mighty Gigas.

"Your Majesty…!" Vossler gasped.

"Anya, what are you doing!" Balthier groaned, after exchanging identical expressions of shock with Basch and Vaan.

"Fret not," said Fran to Penelo (who was about to run out and join the other two), "I believe this will be resolved soon."

The Gigas stopped, miraculously, and peered down at the two small figures before him. "_YOU ARE BRAVE, HUMANS_," it said, its voice rumbling, "_BUT STILL…INTRUDERS. IT IS A SHAME YOU MUST PERISH TODAY_."

"Wait!" Anya shouted, attempting to catch its attention again before it went through with slicing her and Ashelia in half. "Don't…"

Ashe nodded, holding her ground and attempting to make eye contact with the Gigas, only to realize that she could not find its eyes. "We are not intruders. I am a descendant of the Dynast-King Raithwall – in need of the Stone you guard behind that door."

"_IF WHAT YOU SAY IS TRUE, HUMAN, WHY DO YOU NEED SUCH POWER?_"

Vaan couldn't believe it. They were actually having a conversation with that hulking beast.

"My country – Dalmasca – has been enslaved by the Archadian Empire for far too long. Too long have they oppressed my people, once free to work towards their own goals, now forced to do their bidding. I need the Dawn Shard to restore peace and freedom to my country!"

The Gigas was thoughtful, though it hardly looked it. "_I REMEMBER LITTLE ARCHADIA – THEY HAVE GROWN POWERFUL?_"

"Enough to destroy kingdoms," Anya muttered.

"_VERY WELL._" The Gigas lowered its sword and knelt down before the two. It looked closer, bringing its horns right above their faces. It seemed to be reading their minds, if Espers could do such a thing."_I SEE THE TRUTH IN YOUR HEARTS, AND KNOW THE ANCIENT BLOOD COURSING THROUGH YOUR VEINS. I WILL LEND YOU MY POWER – USE IT WISELY._"

Holding two right arms over its chest reverently, the Gigas began to lose its form. Soon it became a flurry of twinkling red and brown, circling the two like a whirlwind until it formed a glyph in the air, encased in glass, spinning as if to imprint itself in their minds always, and disappeared into them with a flash of light.

When she could see again, Ashe raised her right hand to eye level, inspecting the foreign feeling of a tattoo on the back of her hand. She blinked. There was only the vertical half of the glyph they had seen earlier. "Half a glyph?"

Anya did the same, only with her left hand. "Half a glyph." She glanced at Balthier, who had an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. "It didn't even give us a name…"

"_I AM BELIAS_," said a voice in their minds. "_I TRUST YOU WILL TREAD INTO THE NEXT CHAMBER WITH THE SOLEMNITY IT REQUIRES._"

"We will," Ashe whispered, smoothing her fingers over the glyph. "Thank you, Belias."

It no longer spoke, and Fran and Penelo joined the rest of the party out into the platform. "In vainglory they arose," the Viera started, "shouting challenges at the gods. But prevail they did not. Their doom it was to walk the Mist until time's end. A legend of the Nu Mou."

Ashe faced the others. "My family tells a story of the Dynast-King and an Esper. The story goes that in his youth, the Dynast-King defeated a mighty Gigas…for which the gods took heed of him. Thereafter, it was bound to him in Thralldom."

Vaan breathed, "Wow." He wondered how powerful the magick was back then, that it would help a human defeat such a monster. Or maybe that was why Raithwall was the Dynast-King.

Balthier smoothed a potion over the small burns he had received from the Gigas. "So all this time it's been here guarding the Dynast-King's treasure." What a sad existence, he thought, being bound to one place forever, deep in the ground and far away from the freedom of the air.

"Not so," said Ashe, failing to meet his gaze. She had lied to the pirates up until this point – should she feel guilty, or brush it off because they were liars themselves? "The Esper _is_ the Dynast-King's treasure."

Balthier scoffed. "That's your treasure?"

Ashe nodded. "In this Esper we now command rests a power whose worth is beyond any measure."

"Is that so?" Fran and Balthier exchanged disappointed glances. "Call me old-fashioned, but I was hoping for a treasure whose worth we _could_ measure. Well," Balthier sighed, taking Anya's hand and appraising the glyph, "at least we've divided the treasure evenly, hmm?"

Ashe pretended not to hear him as she and Vossler led the way into the final chamber. It was unfair; perhaps she did promise them treasure, but not something as important as _this_. The Esper – unimaginable power – and half of it was in the hands of the pirates. She needed Anya's approval (and in turn, Balthier's and Fran's) and energy to summon it, and it was that thought which irritated her like no other. She wasn't even meant to have half the glyph – if Anya hadn't run after her or had kept her mouth shut when she was speaking with Belias, the glyph would be hers alone, and she wouldn't have to depend on their _kindness_ any longer!

Vossler was just as displeased. A traitor, yet she was granted the power that should have been Her Majesty's because of her blood, roots she barely even treasured. No matter. Once they had the Dawn Shard, there would no longer be a need for negotiation …

Vaan, on the other hand, didn't agree that they had divided the treasure all that evenly. Ashe and Vossler's side had a half, and the pirates' side had another, but what about him and Penelo? (And Basch, but he seemed content with being able to get past the Esper.) He wasn't mad at the others for having a part of the power; he just wished he could do something… But first, he thought of escaping. He hoped what he said on the _Strahl_ was only a thought, that Ghis wasn't waiting for them at the end of all this.

The next chamber was deeper than they had thought. They descended a flight of stairs so long Vaan had forgotten about the Esper fight by the time they reached the end of it. On the landing there was a blue Way Stone, spinning to life as soon as it felt their presence, and then they went up another length of stairs until they finally reached the heart of the Tomb.

The Shard, a perfect sphere of soft magenta, floated before Raithwall's coffin.

The moment's magnificence – no one had been here for thousands of years – caused even Vaan to admire it for a few silent moments, until Basch snapped out of his reverie and noticed Vossler's agitation.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Vossler shook his head and grunted, as if exasperated with the question. Basch figured he was only tired and left it alone.

"Your Majesty," said Vossler, "we must go."

Ashe nodded and walked up the last few steps to reach the Shard. Freedom seemed so close now. The emptiness of the last two years – was it to be filled, finally, with the overjoyed cheers of her people as they learned Archadia would no longer force them to toil for its own profit?

The Shard shone less magenta and more towards blue as she neared it, reaching out to take it, until a vision caused her to drop her arms abruptly. The others couldn't understand – perhaps Anya could have, once, but she was long past that now – except Vaan, who saw it too: the small particles of periwinkle twinkling about an armored figure.

To Ashe, it was the love she had lost to war and the greed of a power-hungry man. She didn't know what to feel. Anger, bewilderment, hope, love – they thrashed about within, fighting to become her initial reaction. Surprise won out. "Rasler…?"

Vaan breathed in amazement. The man before Ashe smiled, placing the Shard in her hands before walking past her – she reached out to touch him and failed – and past the party, then disappeared into the darkness below. To the others, Ashe had taken the Shard for herself without a single distraction. Watching her expectantly, they turned to leave as soon as she returned to them with the Shard.

Rasler's retreating spirit was finally lost behind the others. Clenching the sphere in her fists, Ashe nodded. "You will be avenged."

The way out was easy, with all the Way Stones spinning with life, and soon Balthier could revel in the air and the sunshine outside once more. Vaan joined him, running out with his arms spread open – freedom! Almost – until the sky darkened. Clouds? No, he realized, airships – over Jagd stones. Archadian airships.

A pack of Remora landed before them, trapping them in an uneven hexagon.

Penelo took Vaan's hand as they were cuffed together. Well, he was right. So how come he didn't feel so good?

* * *

I KNOW SUCKY ENDER. But I missed Vaan and wanted to write lots of him in this chapter.

Anyway, there must be lots of misunderstandings with this chapter. Feel free to PM me about any if you want, as always.

**Nameless-Sinner: (SPOILERS) YES. Bwahaha I love spoiling things for people! But those weren't actually spoilers. Because you already read this chapter and knew the answer! XD **

**SongwriterPatries: Thankkks! I'm so happy you don't find Anya vapid. I'm afraid of that the most when it comes to OCs. (BASCH = 3) Oh, and YES. Or maybe he doesn't. But he's got a pret-tyyy good idea... **

**Thanks for reviewing! :D And for those who put the story on alert and favorite and whatever but are too lazy to review, thanks too (but more thanks to the ones who reviewed bwahaha).**

SO...REVIEW. Till next time!

P.S. Guess which worlds Basch, Vossler, Fran, Balthier, Vaan, and Penelo were sent to by the crazy Demon Wall!


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary: Set two years after Hide and Seek. The call to free her sister country has finally arrived, but Anastacia no longer wants to hear it. She is about to realize, however, that when it comes to sky piracy, the dead can be very convincing. BaschxOC**

We've made it to the next update: wherein Vossler screws everybody over! Seriously though, I could never really hate Vossler. He thought he was doing the right thing, and he wanted to avoid as much bloodshed as possible for his men. He just didn't consider the fact that most Archadians are crazy bastards with a penchant for being power-hungry and nutttsssso. Just kidding, don't discriminate. But Vayne and Ghis and Bergan and that EEEVIL COUNCIL OF SENATORS (and who else am I missing?) are freakin' crazy. And Gramis, too, though he was put in a more positive light compared to Vayne his craziest son evarrr, he still allowed all those wars to happen 'cause he doesn't know how to color inside the lines of his world map and everyone laughs at him when he colors past Archadian territory (can't have that, so let's just take over Ivalice, he says!). Geez, old man. Get a new hobby.

ANYWAY. This chapter would be better if fanfiction . net allowed punctuation marks where there's an exclamation point followed by a question mark, but noooo. It's only one or the other, they can never be together. SIGH. If this were Shakespeare, **!** would be Romeo and **?** would be Juliet. 'Cause, you know, Juliet's a girl and therefore has lady lumps (hence, **?**).

**To all you Basch lovers out there**, if he's the only reason you have this story on your alert...list thing, then this is the chapter for you. Well, sort of. The next chapter is REALLY the chapter for you, but this is like the appetizer to that main course mmmmYEAH,YOUKNOWWHATIMEAN. So. Yeah. Read.

ENJOY~

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Thrice.

They had been caught thrice in a span of two weeks. Balthier stared at his rusty handcuffs and sighed. Not three weeks ago, their trio had shone as exemplary sky pirates in Ivalice. Sky pirates of all ages could only dream of being as successful, as renown, as hunted as they were!

And now they were bound. For the third time. The truly sad thing was that this Judge hadn't even meant to catch them; they were only caught in the crossfire between an Empire and its insurgents. He heaved another sigh. Was it really so easy to lose their luster? Was this the price to pay for that half-Glyph, that power in Anya's hand?

Fran rested her wrists on his shoulder, beckoning Anya to join her beside him. They weren't any more pleased about this, but they knew that furrow of his eyebrows and that slump of his shoulders. "We are still the greatest sky pirates to have graced the skies," Fran whispered to him. "Surely you know this?"

At the pity-filled gazes of his partners, he straightened up, forcing his smirk to return to his lips. If not for his own pride, then for theirs. "Without a doubt."

Anya nodded sagely. "Besides, sky pirates would be lost without our guiding light. _Ba'Gamnan_ would lose all purpose."

Balthier chuckled. "Can't have that."

"Quiet!" an Imperial yelled. It disappointed Basch, in a way, that they no longer tried to hit them as they moved along, taking away their chance of escape.

The party was brought to the control room, again, where a fully-healed Judge Ghis was waiting. He smiled wickedly upon their arrival, ignoring the pain that shot through his elbows at the sight of Balthier. "Such a tremendous honor to again be graced with your presence, Majesty," he said to Ashe, standing at the head of the group with the sourest of expressions, "You left us with such great dispatch upon our last encounter that I must confess – I had begun to worry that we may have given some cause for offense."

It was all Ashe could do not to roll her eyes. "Such a heartfelt display of remorse. Now what is it you want?"

"I want you to give me the Nethicite."

"The Nethicite…?" Penelo's hands, cupping the small stone Larsa had given her, flew behind Vaan's back.

Ghis waved her away dismissively. "That is a base imitation! We seek Raithwall's legacy, the ancient relics of the Dynast-King: Deifacted Nethicite." His gaze flew past them as the momentum in his voice fell. "Did you not tell them, Captain Azelas?"

Ashe's eyes widened. When did they begin to address each other past _Judge_ and _insurgent_?

"Majesty," said Vossler, "he speaks of the Dawn Shard. That is the Nethicite."

It was only then that Basch realized: his old comrade hadn't been cuffed. "…Are you mad, Vossler?"

Vossler seemed to be without remorse. "If we are to save Dalmasca, we must accept the truth. I will fight this profitless battle no more!"

Basch grunted as Vossler turned away from him. That Vossler had distrusted him when all along, it had been _he_... No, it was unfair to think of an old friend this way. Vossler couldn't have planned this for two years. He lost hope, somewhere along this road – and thought a new path would be best. Had his short-sightedness truly been his downfall?

"Captain Azelas has struck a wise bargain," Ghis continued, pleased with the turmoil this turn of events had caused within their little group. "In return for the Dawn Shard, the Empire will permit Lady Ashe to reclaim her throne…and the Kingdom of Dalmasca will be restored." He smiled. "Think on it. And entire kingdom for a stone! You must admit, 'tis more than a fair exchange."

Balthier sneered. "And when all is said and done, your master will have another pet."

The Judge Magister's lips twitched with irritation. "Lady Ashe, let us take him for the people of Dalmasca," he said, calmly at first, until his voice built up with a furious inflection, "Your Majesty wallows in indecision on peril of their heads!" He drew his sword to meet Balthier's neck. The pirate couldn't say he was surprised. "And his shall be the first to fall."

Basch stood defensively, watching the other pirates for their reactions. Anya's hands were clasped together, her knuckles turning white, while Fran watched Ashe expectantly. Balthier himself proudly held the Judge's gaze. "Well," he drawled, "at least your sword is to the point."

To Ashe's own shock, she didn't hesitate. Ghis took the Shard from her hands as soon as she offered it.

"To think the relics of the Dynast-King were Deifacted Nethicite…" Ghis voraciously drunk in the sight of power. "Doctor Cid will be beside himself."

Balthier stiffened. "What did you say?"

Ghis pretended not to hear him. "Captain Azelas, take them to Shiva. They should have leave to return to Rabanastre soon."

Something told Vaan he wasn't going to help them escape this time around.

**XIIXIIXII**

"This place needs a little more color," Anya grumbled, making a face as an Imperial shoved her and told her to walk faster. They had been dropped off at the Shiva, a light class cruiser airship stationed farther away from the rest of the 8th fleet. "It's so gray…and white. And a bit of blue, perhaps, but it's boring all the same…"

Penelo glanced at her nervously. She could make the quirkiest remarks sometimes, but didn't she know that the Imperials were only going to get angrier if she kept this up? "Anya, what are you doing?"

Anya motioned to Vaan ahead of them, quietly sulking behind Fran and Balthier, and to Basch beside her, waist-deep in thought. "_Someone_ has to have a little spirit," she replied, her voice dropping with a glum tone. "To pave the way for our grand escape, you see."

"You have an escape plan?" Penelo came closer. "What is it?"

"I don't. Not yet," said Anya, "but I know something will come up. Balthier says there is always a window for escape; you just have to be crafty enough to find it."

Penelo cast a look at everyone. "I don't think anyone's feeling crafty enough to do anything right now."

"No, no," Anya frowned. "When trapped, the gears in a pirate's mind are always working, always turning to find a way out. We'll find a way, Penelo. Trust me."

Penelo eyed the pirate silently. They had never really spoken like this – it had always been in a standoffish manner she couldn't understand – till now. Trust…in a pirate? If she was desperate enough, she just might.

Behind the party, Ashe walked with Vossler. Her world had fallen apart for the umpteenth time, but here she was, still standing. She couldn't let him see that he had broken her with this act of betrayal, this hopelessness she never thought he had. So this was what he had meant in the Sandsea. _Sometimes, one must yield to the coercing force to survive._ Her people had survived. It was truly living, truly being free that was the problem. He hadn't understood that.

"I believe Larsa is the key," Vossler was saying to her. Ashe liked to think he was having his own conversation with himself, because she wanted nothing to do with him now. "He'll listen to us. We should trust him."

_Trust_, a word that sent a bout of anger spiraling out of Ashe's mouth. "Who are you, Vossler, to talk of trust?"

The once great Captain watched the princess walk away from him, her anger as unforgiving as the tides of the Sandsea. He closed his eyes, the pain evident in his features. He had only thought of his country. "A son of Dalmasca."

The wind began to pick up around the hangar, though the sky had barely any clouds. It was an unnatural breeze, almost ominous, and Penelo felt it. Fran had sensed it even before the telltale blow of the air.

Penelo stopped, causing Anya to bump into her. Before the pirate could say a thing, she asked, "Can you…Can you feel that?"

Nodding, Anya raised her wrists and kept them on her wig. It even smelled familiar – like something from two years ago, before everyone died… "Unexpected, that the winds should be so violent on such a bright day."

"Unh…" Fran dug her heels into the floor, struggling to hold herself up. "Move," she whispered to Balthier when he tried to support her. He obeyed and kept his distance, but the pain growing within the Viera did not stop. It was overwhelming, like some great sphere of power expanding, bursting through her insides, through her chest and past her teeth, numbing her fingers…

Vaan stumbled forward. "F-Fran?"

"Such heat…" Fran seethed, nearly falling over, but Anya and Balthier let no one come close. "The Mist – it's burning!" Her breathing was rapid as she fell to a crouch, hugging her knees and gritting her teeth. The wind was growing more violent.

An Imperial foolishly shoved past Balthier and Anya. "You!" he ordered Fran, "Stand!"

And he flew back in the air, landing at Vossler's feet.

Fran's breathing was slowing, but the feral look in her eyes indicated no improvement in her condition. She had kicked the Imperial out of her sight; of course, that hadn't pleased her enough. She was brimming with power, with a force Humes could only dare imagine, and she would be damned if she would let them keep her Humes bound like animals!

Vossler was barely daunted. He had two dozen Imperials at his disposal; not even the greatest, most beautiful Viera he knew could defeat them. And if all went well with this plan, she would never have to deal with another lascivious Imperial again. "Hold her down!"

Fran continued to fume, her nails screeching as they grew to claws in a matter of seconds, until she could take it no longer and jumped, shrieking wildly. She performed a perfect somersault in the air and landed her heels on an Imperial's head, then propelled herself on his body and tackled another, pulling off his helmet with such force that it hit the ceiling and remained dented there.

"Is – Is she gonna be okay?" Vaan asked, allowing Anya to pull him and Basch to the side to unlock their shackles with another hair grip.

"Give her a few minutes," Anya said confidently, but her hands shook as she instructed Basch on how to unlock her cuffs. "When she has disposed of all the Imperials, she'll come to. I hope…"

In between Balthier and Ashe, Penelo was just as worried. "What's wrong with her?"

Balthier was busy picking his lock. He preferred to close his eyes when something like this had to happen. "I always knew Fran didn't take well to being tied up – I just never knew how much." He glanced at the two girls beside him. "How about you?"

Ashe nodded. "I like Fran's idea. Let's get out of here!"

Anya was the first to reach the edge of the hangar – after Vossler. He got up at the sight of her and drew his sword angrily. "No farther!" he shouted, swinging once. She jumped back, looking left and right for another way out. This was the only bay with an available cruiser. "Sky pirates…" Vossler hissed, "The future of Dalmasca will _not_ be stolen!"

Basch came second, and was quick to come to Anya's defense. "Vossler—"

"No!" he said, before his old friend could convince him otherwise. He had recognized – just now – the worry in his features, that _devotion_ he was so ready to give her. He had seen it on Ktjn's face when they first… Vossler shook his head. Now was not the time for daydreaming. It was ironic at best, how Basch still wound up bound to the little girl after all these years. "Why do this, Basch? This struggle is futile. You must know where it leads!"

"I do know," said Basch, drawing his own weapon with a look of mourning. "All too well."

Anya stood back, and the two former friends started the pace of their deadly dance. They knew each other so well that neither could get a wound in. The others had little time to watch, as the Imperials from deeper inside Shiva had begun to arrive, and there was still the matter of escaping alive.

Fran took care of most of them, jumping around insanely and attacking every helmeted Hume she could see, as well as swiping at the Mastiffs some brought along with them. The lucky ones who escaped her wrath, however, Penelo and Ashe had decided to deal with through magick, and set to defeating them with the highest leveled spells they could muster.

"Don't tire yourselves out," said Balthier, having retrieved Anya's pouch from the unconscious soldiers Fran left in her jump-kicking wake. "When this is all over, I've only enough strength to carry one of you and Fran." He watched Vaan run after his sword when a soldier sent it flying from his grasp. "And there's still Vaan to take care of."

"We have to escape," said Penelo, falling to her knees in fatigue after casting Blizzara on four archers. "The wind is getting even more vicious. I think something's about to happen!"

Ashe glanced back to Vossler and Basch, still crossing swords. Anya stood some ways away from them, the gears in her pirate mind shifting. At this point, she was aware, there was no way Vossler would let them pass alive. He knew; there was no way he couldn't have known the truth about Anastacia after they found the Eksir berries, and especially after he took the pendant. The hate he must have felt when he realized she was still alive, she imagined, was immeasurable. He had taken care of her as a child too, after all, had watched her grow with Ashelia, and to find that she chose the life of a truant, a deserter… Perhaps if she could reason with him, if he thought she had the intention of returning to Ashelia and helping the cause of the Resistance…

"Sir Vossler," she said, ducking backwards from a swing meant for Basch, "Stop this! I can explain!"

"Anya," Basch said dangerously, his disappointment in his former friend too overwhelming to allow him to discern what she was speaking of, "Don't do this."

"I will not," said Vossler, and Basch found himself ignored by both of them. "Perhaps if you hadn't betrayed your country—"

"You don't understand," Anya insisted. "My whole family died! I didn't know about–!"

"A pathetic excuse," Vossler spat. "She knew nothing of you, either, yet she strove to fight, not to surrender!"

Things weren't going as planned. Basch was supposed to have attacked by now – and she wasn't supposed to allow Vossler to rile her up this way. "Not to surrender, as you have?"

"You cannot judge me," said Vossler, and repeated it with a frenzied inflection. All his life, he had fought for his country and his love! He would allow no truant – not even royalty – to spoil his efforts! "You deserted even your godfather – the last of your family. Your origins are irrelevant. You are no longer fit to live!"

"Vossler, you've gone mad!" Anya gasped, watching Vossler running at her with a sword outstretched. She froze not in fear, but in grim realization – here was a man truly destroyed by war, by the greed of power-hungry aristocrats who had never seen past their own shadows. She almost pitied him.

"Anya!" Basch hadn't planned on resuming their battle until she was out of sight, but Vossler gave him no choice. He must truly have become desperate if he was willing to kill a defenseless young girl. Sword out, he shoved the immobile Anya out of the way and met Vossler's stomach with his blade – as Vossler's blade met his side.

The collision of her elbows with the floor reawakened Anya, who witnessed the grim scene before her with wide eyes. "Sir Basch…!"

Far across the hangar, Balthier managed to hold Fran down by the shoulders. She hissed at him, eyes flashing with unmitigated rage. "Unh…" she growled. "Hume…you…!"

"Fran!" Balthier barked, shaking her and ignoring the blood seeping through his sleeves as she swiped at his arms like a rabid beast. "The fight is over, you've done it! Calm down! It's me, Fran. Balthier!"

"Balth…" she snarled, but recognition flickered across her expression as she bared her teeth. "Balth…ier…unh…"

"Yes, Balthier," said her partner, cupping her face. "It's me. Your Hume, do you remember? I'm your Hume. Fran!"

"Yes…" said Fran, her claws on Balthier's stomach slowing. Her head drooped, as did her eyelids. "Mine…"

The Viera collapsed in her Hume's arms.

Their swords clanged against the floor. Vossler fell to his knees, staring at his blood-stained fingers as he drew them from his wound. Basch had an arm hooked around Anya's shoulder for support, and the two former Captains, former friends – former brothers – watched each other faintly. Who would have imagined, twenty years ago, that things would turn out this way? They were so hopeful then, those two promising young men who had joined the Dalmascan Army with only a thought for the country that had sheltered them. Side by side, they had promised, fighting to the death. Never faltering.

"Vossler…!" Ashe breathed. The shine in his black eyes were fading, dimming… as the light had in Rasler's amber own. It was earth-shattering, seeing another love bring his death unto himself–

"Ashe," Balthier called, an unconscious Fran draped over his shoulder. Throwing Vossler a last pity-filled glance, he motioned to the cruiser ship docked at the bay. "Let's go."

When she could no longer watch him – the man who had been her pillar, her knight for two years – breathing his last, Ashe followed.

Vossler struggled to keep his eyes open. "All I have done," he inhaled sharply before falling to his hands. "I've ever thought of Dalmasca first."

"I know you do," said Basch, the pain in his side causing white to form over his eyes. "I would…ne'er gainsay your loyalty."

Vossler could barely breathe now. "Look on what my haste has wrought," he mused. "Did I act too quick…or was your return too late? I…I can serve her no more." He reached out to his old friend, reminiscent of the years they had striven to keep on living. "You must take up my charge."

Basch's eyelids fluttered as he gave a sincere nod, and then Anya was left to support his weight completely.

Vossler saw this and chuckled, coughing blood. "He had always…less endurance."

Anya nodded, fighting to stand and drag Basch to their escape, step by step. Of all people, she was sure Vossler didn't want to see her before he passed.

"Lady Anastacia," he still called, however. "One…last request."

"What?" She hadn't meant to sound exasperated; to a dying man she should have been more indulgent, but the futility of all he had done, of his death, crushed her.

He had still the strength to reach into his breastplate. A now bloodied envelope, Anya saw: a letter? "To Ktjn," he mumbled, using the last of himself to throw it to her. Anya caught it between her knees. "A pirate…like Your Highness…should have no trouble finding her."

His body slumped against the floor, a disgraceful death for a man who lived an honorable life. Anya could have moved him, but the Shiva was shaking and Vaan was yelling at her from the cruiser. "Great Father," Anastacia recited, remembering the words in her brother's funeral, "guide your spirit's return to the Mother of all. There you shall find peace…Faram."

Vaan appeared and took Basch's other arm, barely noticing Vossler on the ground. "Come on, Anya, what's taking you so long?"

Anya shook her head in reply. The cruiser was boarded immediately with Vaan's help, and they set off just in time to narrowly avoid an explosion scaling the entire 8th fleet. One by one, from the Dreadnought Leviathan to the rest of its smaller components, Archadia's 8th fleet was disintegrated in a burst of orange sparks and an indomitable flash of power.

The shockwaves reached their cruiser, sending it hurdling off to the right. Balthier's hands were turning blue from trying to steer it back in the right direction. He grunted, "This might get a little dicey!"

Having awoken after Basch and Anya's entrance, Fran groaned, feeling another headache slithering into her temples. "The Mist…" She touched the sides of her head. "It manifests now…"

Vaan, left to carry Basch, held on to back of Balthier's seat. "Is that what you call this?"

Balthier gave no reply until they escaped the mushroom cloud forming between the earth and the sky, and by then the others were too caught up in staring at the nothingness that had been their prison for the last hour to listen. Among the sparks still surging over the smoke, Penelo spotted a sphere.

"What's that?"

Squinting their eyes, Ashe and Anya leaned closer to the cockpit glass. The former gasped, the last glimmer of hope forming in her once more. Something told her not to, but she did anyway, as she had in years long past. "I think it's the Dawn Shard!"

Anya leaned over Balthier's shoulder. "_Tatah_?"

He smirked. "Then what are we waiting for?"

As Balthier steered the cruiser back to the sphere of power and Anya prepared to climb out of the cockpit with nothing but a measly rope to hold her down to them, Ashe wondered if she could find hope in a group of sky pirates after all.

**XIIXIIXII**

"That woman at the front desk – she seemed to know you," Balthier said to Anya that evening. They had returned to Rabanastre after a short rest stop at some deadlands, and he'd deemed them filthy enough to require a more proper place for rest than the _Strahl_. Fran found an expensive Inn in the city that had become quite affordable after she pawned off their Garuda feathers. The concierge had been more than friendly with Anya and a still unconscious Basch, going so far as to give them a wink after Balthier checked them in, and as far as he was concerned, a wink shared between anyone outside their crew was conspiratorial.

"She did seem awfully nice," said Anya, setting her gaze on Fran's resting figure, "considering we'd only just met."

"Hmm." Balthier eyed her from the corner of his eye. "Anya…"

"Yes, _Tatah_?"

"You're the only one with enough energy. Check up on Basch, won't you? See if you can close that ugly wound of his."

"All right. Take care of _Amba_."

Balthier was silent until she closed the door behind her, and then he shook off his shoes and lay next to Fran. He exhaled pleasantly, forgetting the last time he had a bed this relaxing, with lights this warm and air this clean. Their bed in the ship was worn with use – Nono had been meaning to buy new mattresses, he remembered, but was always too busy taking care of the ship to actually find a proper store. The lights in the _Strahl_ had always been stale white, so that they were always on their guard in case of an attack. In any case, he was glad of some reprieve.

Fran shifted beside him, lifting her head onto his arm and draping an arm over his chest. Her eyes opened. "You are bothered."

"Maybe," Balthier mumbled, squeezing her hand and staring at the ceiling. "Anya… she was lying, wasn't she?"

Fran traced a finger on the little shapes on his vest. "Of late."

Balthier sighed. "Am I pushing her away? Or has their presence drawn her back to them?"

"She strays," Fran nodded. "But it is only out of joy, for they live. You will recall: Anastacia was devastated when she first joined us. Still, I believe Anya will remain with us for…as long as we wish."

"I wondered why she didn't take everything in their pockets upon sight. She took all of Larsa Solidor's Hi-Potions, you know."

"I'd thought Basch would convince her to pilfer no longer."

The amusement in Balthier's expression faded. "You don't think...she stays for _his_ company? After all," he said with an insistent tone, "he was only a knight. They hardly had time to interact."

Fran looked up, unable to tell him that position hardly mattered with Anya. Especially not given her history in matters of the heart. "And you?"

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "And I…?"

She reached up and ran her fingers through his zebra blond hair, the physical trait that, besides his height, had always made him distinct to her. "What keeps you on this venture? Six years ago, you deserted him. Are you chasing the past, now?"

Balthier frowned. "No… I only wish to see where it leads."

Fran propped herself on her elbows and searched his eyes earnestly. There was no truth in his eyes, but there was no lie, either. "Very well," she whispered, and returned to rest on his shoulder.

**XIIXIIXII**

Nono snored on the twin bed near the door. He had promised to stay up until someone returned to heal Basch, but all the nerves he wrecked when he saw all that destruction in the sky had finally taken a toll on him.

Anya sat on the side of his bed, watching Basch's bare chest for his unstable breathing. He wouldn't die – she had just made sure of that with the last of her energy – but he was so tired his body was about to give way.

She contemplated on whether she would blame herself. After all, had she not attempted to speak with Vossler, maybe he wouldn't have gone berserk and the fight would have tired him out, leading to his surrender and their capture of him instead of their _slaying_ of him. Then again, he may have surrendered too late and they all would have died in the explosion. Anya wouldn't blame herself, she decided. She had never been one for martyrdom, as Anastacia's brother, the one thing that truly set them apart. If Balthier had taught her anything, it was that survival was priority above most – if not all – things. Except, of course, the crew.

The door creaked open. "Anya?"

Vaan and Penelo peeked inside, having snuck out of the room they shared and past Fran and Balthier's. Anya pulled the covers over Basch. "You two…should be asleep."

"We wanted to make sure he was okay," said Penelo, making the door click softly behind her. "He took a pretty bad blow for us back there."

"Is there, uh…anything we can do to help?" Vaan asked. In the past week, Anya had switched from playful Adela to desperate Anya, then fun Anya, and now she was serious Anya. He understood why she was so solemn, but that didn't mean he was accustomed to it.

"Rest," Anya replied. "We'll need to cast Curaga at least every fourth of a day, and only _Amba_ has enough power to cast them consecutively within a shorter interval in case his condition becomes unstable again. Penelo, we'll need your help in case anything happens."

Penelo nodded. "Sure, anything." Anya's eyes flickered from the two of them to Basch and Nono. Penelo got the hint. "We should go now."

"All right. Good night, Penelo. Vaan."

Vaan waved slightly, an optimistic smile on his lips. So it wasn't only Balthier he had begun to take after. "G'night!"

Anya retired soon after they were inside their room again. Ashe was on the bed farthest from the door, her figure almost creepily still. She lay with her hands clasped on her stomach, her knees and feet seemingly knitted together. Her eyes, gazing into the ceiling, were empty. The bloodied envelope burned in Anya's pocket.

"Ashe…"

Like a puppet come to life, Ashe turned to her blankly. "What is it?"

There was no energy left in her, in case Ashe were to break down at the sight of a letter from her friend tonight. Maybe tomorrow, Anya decided. "Nothing," she whispered. "Good night."

Ashe shifted and lay on her left side, turning her back on her roommate. She sighed. "Good night, Anya."

**XIIXIIXII**

Free breakfast the next day started out as delightful. Vaan had never been to a buffet, but any place where they let him eat as much as he wanted as soon as he woke up made a very good first impression on the young man. So far, he had eggs, hot dogs, bacon, bread and butter, and every kind of juice the Inn offered on his table. He was overjoyed to discover that he was allowed to take the jam on the racks, too, without being arrested. Although at that point, even the thought of Nalbina wouldn't have stopped him.

"Thank you for getting us a room too," Penelo said to Fran and Balthier after gulping down her second serving. She wasn't about to steal jam, but she wasn't foolish enough not to take this opportunity to eat as much as she could. "Vaan hasn't eaten this much in a long time."

"Always a pleasure to share the spoils of our work," said Balthier, grinning. Not really; they kept their loot to themselves if they could help it, but the two children did deserve at least this much after all they had gone through in the desert.

Fran nodded in agreement, finishing another glass of warm milk. As she wiped her upper lip, she cast a sweeping glance around the place. "Has Anya come down?"

Ashe cut her food quietly beside the Viera. "No. She was in the bath when I left the room. Before that, she mentioned casting another healing spell on Basch."

Across the princess, Nono chomped down on a bowl full of carrots. "Poor kupo. It's not just the wounds he's recovering from, you know. There's that deep emotional scarring when you're forced to fight your best friend to the death, kupo."

Balthier cleared his throat, barely able to breathe through the awkward fog that had seeped out from Nono's comment. "Well. Let's hope for the Captain's quick recovery, shall we? We've still much on our agenda."

Vaan glanced up from his gobbling. Was he the only one enjoying the food? That wouldn't do. "I'm getting more of that noodle…pasta stuff," he announced. "Anyone want some?"

Ashe followed. "I'll join you."

Penelo stood, her mind wildly imagining Vaan and Ashe, alone. "Uh—me too!"

Balthier waved them away dismissively and glanced at the archway leading into the buffet area. "Anyone care to tell me why our little sky pirate is pacing there?"

Outside, Anya was pacing. The bloodied envelope was tucked inside her singlet. How would she tell _Amba_ and _Tatah_ that the man who had tried to kill them gave her his dying wish? They weren't insensitive enough to refuse its fulfillment, but… Ashe. It was Ashelia she was worried about. What with Vossler being a _Dalmascan_ knight, the princess had always been closer to him. Once she found out that he'd coursed the letter through Anya instead of her, she would be livid.

What would Basch do, in this case? Be calm. Tell the truth…

And get slapped in the face by Ashe for it.

What would Balthier do? Say it with a smirk. With a little twinkle in the eye…

And get slapped in the face by Ashe for it.

She tried other scenarios: Fran, Penelo, Nono – even the Moogle would end up having his cheek burn for days after. Not much use fretting over it, Anastacia had always said before performances. Just go out there and try not to trip!

That was barely applicable here, but she strode into the buffet area anyway. "Good morning," she said to her fellow pirates. "Where are the others?"

"Getting their second, third, and eighth servings," said Balthier, looking up at her with a smirk. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"…Maybe the others should hear it, too," she decided, sitting beside Nono. She stared at the empty seats across them. "Especially Ashe."

Nono stood on his seat and touched her forehead with the back of his palm. "You look pale, kupo. Basch isn't dead, is he?"

"No!" Anya scoffed. "I can cast a good Curaga now too, you know. It's not him. It's the other Captain that's the matter."

Balthier narrowed his eyes at her. "Whatever happened to the old adage, _dead men tell no tales_?"

"They don't tell tales," said Anya, reaching into her singlet slowly. Ashe and the other two were returning to the table. "But they do write letters."

Fran looked almost startled. "A dying wish?"

Balthier rolled his eyes. "Just what we need."

"What dying wish?" Vaan asked, plopping on his seat.

Ashe set her plate down before glancing at Anya. "Are you…wh…Vossler?"

Anya smoothed the envelope down on her place mat. Perhaps she should have eaten before all this, but she hadn't had an appetite to begin with. "Before he passed, he gave me this envelope."

Ashe stood abruptly and reached across the table. "Give it to me—"

"No!" Anya swiped it back and held it behind her head. For a moment, she was holding a crown over her head and laughing at the Dalmascan princess with a younger Rasler, telling her she would have to earn her keep in their Bhujerban treehouse, but soon it was only a distant memory. "It isn't for you."

"Is this a game to you?" Ashe reached for it again. "Why would he give _you_ a letter?"

"Yes." Balthier wondered the same thing. "Tell us, Anya."

Anya huffed at him and kicked her chair back so she could stand. "It isn't for _me_. It's for me to give. To a Viera."

Ashe fell back into her seat. "…What?"

"Ktjn," Anya answered, eyes pointedly on Fran. "He said a sky pirate like me should have no trouble finding her."

"Ktjn," Ashe repeated to herself, "I've…I've never heard of her."

"Ktjn from Clan Centurio?" Balthier tapped his chin. "What could an insurgent possibly have to do with a bounty hunter?"

"Not a bounty hunter," said Fran. "Krjn is the bounty hunter. Her sister Ktjn is a civilian. She has lived in Rabanastre for years, but she has yet to adapt. I don't understand…"

"Only one way to find out, kupo!" Nono said, and was about to offer his brother's connections when someone interrupted.

Vaan, who had been watching everything with Penelo silently, spoke. "The faster we find her, the better, right? It's what...Vossler wanted, right, Ashe?"

A million scenarios buzzed through Ashe's head. Who was Ktjn? Why had Vossler never spoken of her? Why hadn't he prepared a letter for _her_ in the case of his death?

Penelo touched her forearm. "Ashe?"

"Y-Yes," she replied, pulling her arm back. "We should find her as soon as possible."

Balthier stretched his legs and sat back, sipping on some juice. "You can go now if you're that excited."

Anya frowned. What was he doing that to _her_ for? "But I've yet to eat breakfas—"

"We should go, now," Ashe said, grabbing Anya by the wrist, and they disappeared behind the arch without a protest from the latter.

"We'll catch up with you later!" Vaan said, waving, and dug into a slice of cake.

Nono clicked his tongue at Balthier. "Cruel, kupo. Just cruel."

**XIIXIIXII**

"Think of it as just another game of hide-and-seek," Anastacia grumbled to Anya. "Ashe is _it_. You've been caught. You're only helping her find the last player, and then the game will start all over again and you'll be _it_. Easy."

It was an hour past noon, and she still hadn't eaten. Four hours of this game and Ashe still hadn't won! Anastacia snorted inwardly. It was a wonder she could ever find Rasler when they were children. Then again, his hiding spots were pathetic... Oh, Rasler…

Anya groaned and pulled at her hair in the middle of the Bazaar.

"Anya, you okay?" Vaan asked, tapping her shoulder lightly.

"No. Yes," she replied, forcing a smile. It wasn't his fault the princess wouldn't rest until they found Ktjn. She also insisted on holding Vossler's letter herself, saying that she had a right to discover who this Viera was to him, exactly. No one had dared question her, especially not with that frightening intensity in her eyes. "I'm a little hungry, that's all."

Ashe whirled. "Anya, where are you taking us?"

"What? You were leading."

"Vossler was confident that you would find this…this _Ktjn_. Don't lead us astray."

Anya had the most bewildered expression Penelo had ever seen. "What are you talking about, Ashe? You've been leading since Vaan and Penelo joined us. I've only been telling you if I don't see any familiar Viera. And I _don't_. Not here."

Ashe crossed her arms. "Where do you propose we go, then?"

The scent of grilled cockatrice tenderloin wafted past Anya's nose. She closed her eyes, inhaling as much as she could before the scent of alcohol joined the mix and her tongue stuck itself out in disgust. The cockatrice was temptation enough. For her stomach's sake, she tried to ignore the stench of sweat and the off-putting, swampy ambiance of the place.

"The Sandsea?" Now Ashe was livid. "Who could we possibly find in a tavern but drunkards or Imperials? Or both?"

Anya found a table at the back that obscured them from plain sight upon entering, and made herself comfortable on the hard wooden chair. "Relax, princess. This is where most of Clan Centurio's members come to unwind. If we're lucky, Krjn will appear and we can deliver Vossler's letter."

Ashe narrowed her eyes at the pirate. No one could throw Vossler's name around so carelessly, but she knew she couldn't contest if the girl was only trying to help. "Fine."

"Hey, waiter! Do you want my gil, or am I gonna hafta go to the tavern on the _other _end of Rabanastre?"

Ashe, Vaan and Penelo huddled together, staring at Anya in shock. "That was barbaric," Ashe said, giving her a dirty look once she recovered.

One of the girls working at the bar appeared. "How can I help ya?"

Anya grinned at her companions. It made her feel so different from Anastacia, so free and pirate-like. Nothing at all like a princess, but even she couldn't deny that the lines between Anya and Anastacia were beginning to fade. "One must be, to get any attention here. Or a harlot." She turned to the waitress. "I want grilled cockatrice tenderloin. Make it quick, eh?"

"Comin' right up," the barkeep winked, and sped off into the kitchen.

When Anya's food finally arrived, Penelo eyed it curiously. "Why would they serve grilled food in a tavern?"

Anya expertly sliced her meat into little bits before taking a bite. After swallowing, she gaped at Penelo. "Why wouldn't they? Nothing sates a hungry stomach like grilled food! Would you care for some?"

Ashe was so confused. She had the gall to yell out so boisterously, but she had to swallow her food before she spoke? It irked her that she was wasting time thinking about it, and that they were wasting time watching her eat here. "Anya, why do we not just go straight to Clan Centurio's headquarters? You just wanted to eat, didn't you?"

"Yes…and no," Anya replied, refraining from laughing sheepishly. "Clan Centurio's headquarters is top secret. Only its members know its location and are allowed inside."

Vaan blinked. Taking a cockatrice bit from the pirate's plate, he asked, "Really?"

"No. But membership is by invitation, and as one never turns down an invitation into the Clan, it's clear none of us have ever been invited," Anya explained. Of course, Nono could have always asked Montblanc to tell Krjn they needed her for something, but she was hungry and she needed this. "Therefore; yes. Staking out at the Sandsea is necessary."

Ashe pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was she surprised? The pirate could make jokes in Raithwall's Tomb, almost at the expense of their lives. Why couldn't she kid around now, in a tavern filled with drunken hunters and Imperials, when they were only just on a mission to fulfill Vossler's dying request?

"Adela?"

Anya nearly choked, but Penelo was quick to hand her a glass of water. She stood after gulping it all down and grinned at Ashe triumphantly.

Two Viera loomed over them, one of them baring her stomach in casual clothing and the other in full armor. The latter woman removed her helmet and scrutinized the other three sitting on the table. She glanced back to Anya. "Or do you go by the name Fran's Hume wills upon you…?"

"Any will do," Anya replied, bowing respectfully. Vaan wondered if he should do the same. "But Anya will be fine. It is an honor to see you again, Krjn."

The Viera was pleased with her formality, but dismissed it with a guarded smile. "How is Fran? And your…" Krjn looked uncomfortable saying it, "…father, as you call him?"

"They are well," she replied. Krjn was an old Viera, an elder of Fran's who deserved respect and reciprocated it in turn, which was how she knew of Adela and Anya. A friend of a fellow Viera was a friend of hers, but she had never appreciated the way Fran so devoted herself to Balthier. To a man, to be exact, especially one who put her in such danger for the sake of loot. He had never gone wrong, however, so Krjn tried to be as civil with him as possible. And in front of Anya, whom she knew treasured the male (for some reason she had yet to discover). "Resting in an Inn with Nono, not far from here."

"Ah, yes," Krjn nodded. "Montblanc was asking after him; as Monid was asking after you. After Adela, I mean."

Anya's eyes lit up. "Did he miss me?"

Krjn laughed at her. "Hardly. He was suspicious, for you have not looted his Marks in days. Busy, are you?"

"Make no mistake! I would loot his kills if I had time," said Anya, proudly. "There just seemed to be so much more to take from that mushroom cloud in the sky."

Krjn stopped laughing. "You were there? We Viera could sense the thick Mist from miles away. Fran must have…"

"_Tatah_ managed to calm her down," Anya replied. "Although we did suffer some casualties. Which reminds me…" Her eyes floated to Krjn's companion.

Krjn eyed Anya's as well, and they were glad to finally be noticed. "Who are they?" she asked. "They do not look like pirates."

"We are not pirates," Ashe was quick to say. "Anything but."

"Hi," Vaan and Penelo squeaked out meekly. As if Fran hadn't been intimidating enough; this one seemed to judge them at a glance.

"You make odd friends," Krjn said humorously. "But I suppose it is to be expected. Now—"

"Wait, Krjn." Anya held her hands up apologetically. One did not interrupt a Viera warrior like Krjn, but if Ashe was made to wait any longer, there was going to be even more trouble. "We would…like to speak with Ktjn."

The meek Viera behind Krjn made eye contact. "Me?"

Krjn narrowed her eyes at the Humes before her. "For what reason?"

"It's about Vossler Azelas," Ashe said, standing beside Anya. She watched Ktjn's confused countenance warp into one of hope, of…love. It scared her to go on, but she had to know. "How did you know him?"

Ktjn blushed. "We…Vossler and I…"

Krjn frowned. "That was his name? Your lover from the Resistance?"

Vaan gave a loud 'whoa'. "Your _lover_?"

Krjn slapped Krjn's shoulder. "Krjn, you speak too much!"

"It is the truth," Krjn said to Anya. "A day cannot go by without her speaking of her Hume. It is sickening, to be honest. Fran is younger, and she has much more poise than my sister when it comes to such infatuation."

"It isn't infatuation," Ktjn said, becoming upset with her older sister. "I love Vossler!"

Ashe had long frozen at the word _lover_. So her fears were true. While working in the Resistance, Vossler had been in love with someone...who hadn't been her. It was why he could never see the way she was sure she looked at him, with her own admiration, her own…love…?

_I love Vossler! _the Viera had said, and it was her love the knight had reciprocated.

How many times could one's world shatter?

The princess was hardly paid any mind, however. The others were too worried for Ktjn to notice her, as Vossler had been too caught up with Ktjn to do so before.

"Ktjn," Penelo spoke, motioning to one of the empty seats by the table, "m-maybe you should sit down first."

"Why?" Ktjn asked, but she obeyed. Krjn took the seat next to her, both Viera sensing the anguish lingering in the air around the Humes. "Wh-What happened to him?"

Anya bit her lip. She could only imagine how others reacted to the death of their loved ones. If Anastacia was any indication, then she regretted rushing into this quest without asking for Fran's advice first. "We were on the 8th fleet before it was destroyed. Vossler was with us. He…"

"He helped us escape!" Penelo interrupted, a feeling of pity overwhelming her. Her mouth began to run, despite Vaan's horrified expression. "Without him, we all would have died in the explosion. He – he sacrificed himself for everyone!"

Ktjn froze, but no one noticed the similarities between her expression and Ashe's. "What…then…are you saying?"

Anya took the envelope from Ashe beside her and slipped it into Ktjn's fingers. "His last thought was of you. I'm so sorry, Ktjn."

Ktjn's fingers twitched so much that Krjn was forced to take the envelope and open it herself. She unfolded the paper inside and gave it to her sister, who read it quietly. Halfway she covered her mouth, fingers going cold, and as she neared the end the tears were spilling out of her eyes uncontrollably. Anya had seen Fran show concern, perhaps even intense worry, but it was the first time had ever seen a Viera cry. Over Vossler Azelas, no less…

"He loved me," Ktjn sobbed, giving the letter to Krjn and covering her face. "No matter the veil of the afterlife, he said, he would love me always!"

Krjn embraced her sister, a great show of love for the usually cold Viera. "He was Hume, my sister. You knew of his mortality."

"I know," she nodded, still wiping her eyes like a child who had tripped for the first time, "Oh, but I loved him!" She glanced up to Anya, Vaan, and Penelo. "Th-thank you…Thank you for returning this letter to me. Thank you."

Krjn gave Anya a worried smile. "Indeed. Please, leave her to me. She has still years and years to live. I will ensure her healing. Give my regards to Fran, Nono, and…Balthier."

"All right. Be well, Krjn. Ktjn…"

"Get up, Vaan," Penelo said, tugging him by the vest. He was so mesmerized by the sight of an unmovable Viera crying that it took him a while to return to his senses.

Anya stared at her grilled cockatrice and her companions before realizing she had lost more than just her appetite. "Where is Ashelia?"

Penelo looked around. "She – was just here a second ago. Ashe?"

**XIIXIIXII**

One hour of searching the upper side of Rabanastre later, the three gave up and returned to the Inn.

"This is crazy," Vaan said when they were walking to their rooms. "Why would Ashe run away?"

Penelo shrugged. "She seemed really torn up about Vossler's death, too. Maybe seeing Ktjn cry upset her even more."

"Ashe isn't the kind to…run away," Anya said, stopping in front of Nono and Basch's room. "She'll have to return soon. The Dawn Shard is in my pouch, after all. Anyway, I need to cast another Curaga on Sir Basch. Will you tell _Amba_ and _Tatah_ to be on the lookout?"

Penelo nodded and shoved Vaan into the pirates' room.

Anya rubbed a hand over her face as she entered the room and groaned. Was this what she put Uncle Halim through when she ran away? "Where are you…?"

No use worrying, she told herself. Ashelia would have to return for the Dawn Shard, at least. For now, Sir Basch…

Anya opened her eyes. A shaking figure loomed over Basch, her eyes like daggers. "Ashe!"

Ashe's features softened upon seeing her, but she recovered quickly and continued to watch Basch angrily.

"Why did you run off?" Anya asked. "Penelo, Vaan and I combed the streets for you for nearly an hour!"

Ashe's eyebrows furrowed. "Vossler mentioned you were from Nabradia. Why did _you_ run off, Anya?"

"…What? Stop working it all around, _princess_! I know, it's terrible that Vossler is gone, but you can't dwell on it forever! Move on!"

"As you moved on?" Ashe scoffed. "I would sooner die by Vayne's hand. If you hadn't run in the way, Vossler wouldn't have tried to… Basch wouldn't have had to… All of this is _your_ fault!"

Basch frowned in his sleep and moved, turning on his side to face Anya.

"Be quiet," Anya said, but her whisper was a furious one. "And you can't blame this on me! If Vossler didn't betray us all, you _know_ you would have had the Dawn Shard and we would all still have our lives!"

"No!" Ashe stepped forward and gave Anya a sharp slap in the face. "Don't you dare speak of him that way!"

"It's the truth!" Anya replied, her burning cheek spurring her on. "He betrayed us, and he died for it!"

"Vossler toiled days and nights for Dalmasca's freedom!" Ashe screamed. "If anyone, Basch should have been the one to die!"

It was the first time Anya had ever slapped anyone. Despite Balthier's initial teachings on the dramatics of such an act, it didn't make her feel any better. "How dare you speak of Sir Basch that way! Have you ever seen his body? Scars on his back no Renew could ever heal! The Empire ruined him for a crime he didn't commit!" She and Ashe glared at each other hatefully, and Anastacia wondered how she could ever have had a sister like the woman standing before her. If Anya was warped from her, who was this being warped from her beloved Ashelia? "Why do you care so much? Did you _love_ Vossler as Ktjn did? Shame on you! Shame on you, Ashe! Only two years since Prince Rasler's sacrifice, and you've already forgotten him?"

"I didn't…" Ashe faltered, taking a step back. "I didn't love him…!"

"I should have known…" Anya continued. "The way you fell towards him in the Leviathan, how you embraced him in the Tomb…!"

"No…" Ashe felt tears sting her eyes. She was so confused, and all these accusations – all this shame – it was all too much to bear. She ran past Anya and out of the room.

Anya closed her eyes, regretting what had passed between them instantly, and reached for the window sill. All this anger, all this sorrow – she hadn't felt so much since she was Anastacia. It was overwhelming, to say the least. And all in defense of Sir Basch, a knight Anastacia had never even given a second thought before her world began to crumble…

"Anya…"

She was at his side immediately. "Sir Basch. How do you feel?"

"I…" He smiled at her weakly, his lips dry. Her heart pounded at the thought of them. "I thank you for coming to my defense. It isn't often anyone does anymore, I realize."

Anya combed the stray hairs from his forehead back. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Sir Basch. She meant none of it. Vossler's death affected her so…because…" Had she really loved him? Had she really forgotten about Anastacia's brother so easily?

"I understand," he said, coughing slightly. _Sir Basch_ seemed so formal. Anya rushed to a glass of water on the bedside table and helped him sit up for a drink. "Thank you. How long have I…?"

"Only since yesterday afternoon." She took out a handkerchief and wiped the water from his chin. "A day, I suppose."

Basch attempted to stand, but found he could only stumble. Anya caught him and set him back in bed. "You aren't well yet. _Amba_ said you'd need at least two more days of rest."

He grunted. "I will manage."

"No." Anya poked at his chest until he lay back again. "Rest. Are you hungry? I could order food again."

Recognition flashed across Basch's face as he looked around the room. He smiled with some embarrassment. "You pamper me, Anya."

Anya put the empty glass on the bedside table and returned his shy smile. "You did save my life."

Basch's face fell. Anya almost regretted reminding him of the previous day's events, but as he had said to Anastacia before, despite it all he still had his own game to play. After some thought, he said, "You once told me that I saved the life of a girl you loved. And that she died not long after my alleged execution."

Anya was quiet.

"Was it Lady Anastacia?" He looked remorseful. "Were you speaking of Rasler's funeral, when she nearly walked off the Cathedral's rooftop?"

There would only be harm in denying it, Anya knew. "Yes. Now…what do you wish to eat?"

Basch watched her shift in her seat beside him. She was still uncomfortable with this topic; he didn't mind. He could take things as slowly as she wanted, as she had waited for him and understood his own pace.

"Sir Basch? What would you like?"

_Your company will do_, he thought recklessly, until his stomach growled in protest and he shook it out of his mind with some effort. "Anything to fill this stomach."

Anya grinned. "I know just the thing."

**XIIXIIXII**

Ashe bounded out of the room blindly, thoughts of – everything – clouding her mind and vision. She hadn't wanted to betray Rasler, she didn't want to forget, but there was such solace in Vossler's presence. It wasn't her fault, she repeated to herself. Any why did it matter if she had cared about him? His heart belonged to that Viera, beautiful, graceful, meek, perfect! As the Viera were wont to be. It was so unfair—

"Ashe!"

Having been on her way downstairs to start another search, Penelo stopped the princess before she ran straight into her. "Are you all right? We've been looking all over for you!"

"I-I'm…" Shaking, Ashe covered her face, mumbling something about the justice in the world.

Penelo wondered how she would go about this. The princess, breaking down before her? Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that this would happen, especially not to strong, steadfast Princess Ashe. So Vossler's death _had_ struck hard and heavy…

"Come on, Ashe," she said to the older teen in a soft voice, "You need to rest. All this running's getting to you."

"No…" Ashe said, but her shoulders were scrunched up and she allowed Penelo to lead her to her room. She dreaded facing that Anya again, but remembered she must still be with Basch. "I must—I must save Dalmasca!"

Penelo closed the door and set Ashe on Anya's bed until she protested and took the one near the window. Ashe's eyes were misty as she stared at Penelo distantly, and the orphan found she now pitied the princess she once envied.

"Ashe, do you…want to talk about it?"

Ashe felt as if nothing could comfort her now. "There is nothing to talk about."

"There is," Penelo insisted, squeezing her arm. Otherwise you wouldn't be close to tears like this. My friends and I from the Lowtown have all lost someone...I know how it feels. You can talk to me, Ashe."

Ashe stared at the carpet thoughtfully. Penelo wasn't a complete stranger now, as she had been in the _Strahl_ some nights ago. They had even spoken in Raithwall's Tomb, when the girl was gracious enough to relay Balthier's story about the Rozarrian ruins to her. But she hadn't truly confided in anyone since Anastacia, and Anya's words had struck her so – as she 'replaced' Rasler with Vossler, would she replace Anastacia with Penelo?

It wasn't replacing, she reasoned. She couldn't go on wondering what her sister would have said if this happened, or what she would have done if that occurred. Anastacia was always eager to make new friends; why couldn't she be?

"The pressure—it's suffocating. Dalmasca is always on my mind," she said to Penelo. "I can barely sleep, knowing there are children in the Lowtown, struggling to survive. And yet it is so tempting to just—just give in."

"It's comforting," Penelo started with a smile, "knowing someone out there is trying to save you. But you can't beat yourself up about our situation every time."

"What?"

"You need to rest, too. You can't ransom a kingdom on four hours of sleep, you know."

Ashe couldn't help but chuckle. There was a certain way she and Vaan worded things that made everything seem so simple. But nothing was simple; especially not for a princess. Her smile faded. "Every moment that I rest seems like another life taken by the Archadian Empire."

"Well, yeah, if you put it that way, no one's ever going to get any sleep anymore." Penelo sighed. It looked as if Ashe still wasn't going to change her mind about anything today. Maybe she shouldn't have expected her to, with Vossler's death so fresh in their minds. But what would it take to get a princess to listen? Not even Vaan was this stubborn.

"What did you do?" Ashe asked. She appreciated Penelo's insight, but she wasn't ready to pour her heart out just yet. After all, Anastacia only came to her side after twelve years of helping Rasler play tricks on her. "That is, what did you do…before…you were roped into all this mess?"

Penelo stretched her arms languidly. There was a thought. That mundane life seemed so far away now. "I worked in a sundry store for a Bangaa who takes care of us orphans."

"Oh, yes," Ashe remembered. "You were kidnapped, weren't you? Have you notified your caretaker of your safety, and Vaan's?"

Penelo grinned. It was still amazing, having a princess concerned about her. "Mm hmm! We went to him as soon as Balthier checked us into the Inn. He was worried sick about us, you know. Especially after news came of the 8th fleet's explosion. It was a little funny, watching him flail his arms around like that." Penelo giggled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that awful of me?"

Ashe shook her head. "It must be nice, having someone worry about you."

Penelo frowned. "Don't say that. We worry about you, Ashe. Even Fran offered to go out and search for you once we told them you were missing."

"Why didn't she?"

"She was about to—only the moment she stepped out, she said she could smell you nearby. I was about to go look for you, actually. Vaan already went ahead. Uh-oh, I guess I'm going to have to find him…"

"It's all right." Ashe understood. After all, their group seemed to work in pairs – Fran and Balthier, Penelo and Vaan, and now Anya and Basch. Nono was hardly around, and though she tried not to think little of him because he was a Moogle, it wouldn't be the same as Vossler's presence... "Go ahead if you wish."

"No, it's okay. Vaan's used to being lost," Penelo laughed. "He'll come back sooner or later."

"I've been a fool."

Penelo's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I admit: I am saddened by Vossler's passing." _Crushed_, _devastated_, she corrected herself in her mind, but she couldn't say that to Penelo. "But…he was rash, misguided – and his actions brought him to his end. Despite this, I mourn, and my heart is heavy. Is it wrong? That because of his death, I forgave him?"

Penelo realized just how much more complicated things seemed to be to a Princess and wondered if she should think hard. But she was asking for _her_ opinion, after all… "He was your friend. And…even if what he did was absolutely wrong, he did them with good intentions for Dalmasca. The consequences of what he did aren't your fault. Maybe they're his – or not. I don't know. I'm only sixteen," she said, chuckling awkwardly, but continued when Ashe gave no reply. "But I don't think anyone will take it against you if you mourn his death – um, passing. I don't."

Ashe nodded, taking every word to heart. She was wrong to have said such biting words – that Basch should have died – especially because she had uttered them under the influence of her emotions. Once again, she wished she no longer had them. They only proved to hinder her and create rifts between people she still needed to save her kingdom. Still, she couldn't bring herself to get up and apologize to Anya or Basch for what she had said. At least, not at the moment – in any case, Anya was probably still angry with her, not to mention her cheek was still burning. No doubt Anya's was, too.

"Thank you, Penelo." Ashe wondered if she should embrace the girl – it was the most important sign of friendship between two girls, wasn't it? Anastacia had always been the type to envelope her in bearhugs, especially when she needed them. Then again, this was the first time in two years she had spoken like this so honestly with anyone. She didn't want Penelo thinking she was some sort of oddity for embracing people too soon in the friendship. Holding back, Ashe settled for a smile. "I'm fortunate to have you for a friend."

A smile from Ashe was contagious. "Friends? Wow…" Penelo spoke accidentally, and just as quickly covered her mouth. It was a hard thing to get used to, being thanked by royalty, which had been happening a lot lately. (Twice already!) "I mean, yeah! You're welcome, Ashe. Anything for a friend."

Ashe's heart soared. It felt good – having a friend.

**XIIXIIXII**

"Vossler…was in love?"

Basch reeled. In all his nineteen years of having known the man, Vossler had never shown interest in pursuing anything related to less-than-patriotic matters, least of all romance. It was why he had turned down King Perraen's offer in a heartbeat, knowing he was not the only candidate for… Basch sighed. In any case, it came as a complete surprise, being told by those who hadn't even known him for more than a week that Vossler Azelas had been in a _relationship_.

"Yeah," Vaan said, having come to the room after being told by Balthier and Fran (taking a stroll through Rabanastre as if they weren't wanted criminals by the Empire) that Ashe had already been found. "And she was a Viera!"

With a Viera.

"You mean…he really never told anyone?" asked Anya, sitting on Nono's bed beside Vaan.

"Perhaps he did, but he never shared it with me," Basch replied, almost melancholically. "How long had they…?"

"Ktjn didn't say. Maybe he never told you because it happened after the fall of Dalmasca?"

Basch chose to take solace in the possibility. "Perhaps."

"Either way, with the way that Viera lady reacted to the news…" Vaan still looked shock to the core as he recounted it, "It seemed like they were really in love."

"She was his last thought," Anya repeated. "And in his letter he said to her that he would love her always, _even past the veil of the afterlife_."

Vaan pursed his lips in deep thought. "Wow. How do people come up with that stuff? Vossler never looked like the poetic type to me."

"When you're in love, the words simply come to you," Anya explained.

Basch turned to her with mild surprise. "How do you know this?"

"I…read a lot of books," Anya offered sheepishly. "Some serious, some geared towards a more romantic audience…"

Vaan shuddered. "Penelo reads that stuff too." He said to Basch as a warning, "It's way too cheesy for anyone's own good."

Basch laughed. "To each his own, I suppose. Forgive me; I'm still quite shaken." He explained the circumstances, of Vossler's early life. "It will sound cruel, but I never thought Vossler was the type to…_love_."

"No one did," Vaan said. "Even Ashe was so surprised, she ran off without telling us."

Basch and Anya exchanged glances, both knowing exactly where she had gone, but said nothing to Vaan. "Well," Basch cleared his throat, "Her Majesty is safe now."

"Uh, yeah. Are you okay?" Vaan watched him clear his throat a few more times. "Do you need a drink?"

"Ah, no—"

"I'll get it," Vaan said, racing Anya to the door. "Be back in a second!"

Basch and Anya exchanged another glance, shrugged at each other, and found themselves lost in silence.

"Sir Basch?"

From his place on the bed, Basch cringed as he looked up. Still too formal. "Yes?"

"You mentioned that Vossler was never interested in…romance."

Basch nodded. "In fact, he would always have me handle female recruits so as not to risk their inevitable falling in love with him," he almost laughed. "He was so sure they would. And they did, eventually. He found it only a hindrance."

Anya smiled a little to match his mood, but she seemed deep in thought. "Did any of them ever…fall in love with you?"

Still feeling humorous despite the circumstances, Basch answered, "A few. I…think. Most of them found Vossler's negative reinforcement attractive. My lenience was…boring, apparently."

"I see. Well…Did you ever…with…" Anya seemed to find her fingernails very interesting all of a sudden. "With any of your…that is to say…apprentices?"

Basch squinted his already narrow eyes at her. It was the first time in a while she had looked so shy that he had a hard time concentrating on her words. "What…?" And then it hit him. "Oh! Oh. No," he chuckled at her red cheeks. They were so… "I had no time for such things. In any case, I couldn't have, even if I wanted to. Which I never did, mind you."

Anya felt relief wash over her in buckets. She had been holding her breath for quite some time on that one. "You couldn't have…?" she wondered, her mind getting to work again. "Something would hinder you from doing so, even if you wanted to? …Which you hadn't," she repeated, just for good measure.

Basch laughed. In Nalbina, he never would have imagined that she was interested in asking these types of questions. "Yes."

Something popped into Anya's head. And Anastacia's, who suddenly felt giddy with hope. It was too brazen, Anya thought, but Anastacia had always loved attention anyway, and dared to ask. "Was it Princess Anastacia? The hindrance, I mean?"

Basch hesitated. "…In a way. Yes."

"Why?" Anya pressed, spurred on by Anastacia's childish curiosity. "Was it because…did you…did you love Princess Anastacia?"

Basch closed his eyes painfully before looking into Anya's again. Somehow, he found the strength to answer her, honestly this time. "No," he said truthfully, wondering if he would ever see the true color of her eyes. "Not in the way you must think. She meant something to me, yes. But as she was I could not love her more than a knight should love his charge."

"Oh." Basch wondered why she looked so disappointed. Something in him had hoped she would look relieved, because it would mean that she… "Oh, I see. But…Sir Basch?"

He would have to address this issue some time soon. After all, they were now close friends (perhaps even – no, of course not), yet she addressed him so formally. "What is it?"

Even Anastacia hesitated. The princess, once so loved by her people, wasn't loved by Captain Basch? Then again, he hadn't denied loving her. Only that he didn't love her the way Anya had so boldly suggested (_wanted, dreamed of, wished with all her heart for_). But she had to know if she could still hope another time. "Do you think, Sir Basch, that you…that you could ever love…m…m…"

Basch was distracted by the sound of footsteps close to the door, or perhaps he was focused on wishing they would not come into the room, because he earnestly wished to hear what Anya had to ask of him.

She was tongue-tied. "That you could ever…ever…l-lo…m…"

Vaan burst into the room with a glass balanced on his head, a pitcher of water in his right hand, and a tall glass filled some fruit shake he had been craving for in his left. He sipped on the shake. "There!" he said, setting the pitcher down on the bedside table and handing Basch the glass. "That should do. You know, this Inn is the best!"

His eyes went back and forth between Anya and Basch, the latter staring at Anya intently and the former staring at her fingers, seemingly petrified as she mumbled something incoherent to Vaan.

"Guys?"

"Anyway," said Anya, standing up abruptly, "I need to arrange something with Nono. Be – be well!" And she leapt out of the room.

Vaan stared after her. "She can be so weird sometimes. It must be from having to switch from Anya to Adela and back all the time. Who knows how many names she has, anyway?"

Still stunned, Basch shook his head. With Vaan sipping on his own drink, the room settled back into a comfortable quiet. Ever since Vaan had accepted that Basch was not the cause of his brother's death, it was as if the two had come to an understanding; they were allies, friends, both hoping towards the restoration of the Kingdom of Dalmasca. Basch was thankful for Vaan's silence, for giving him a moment to think of what had just occurred between him and Anya; it was not often the boy was, after all.

"Hey, Basch?"

Of course, he didn't mind a conversation from him, either. It had been so long since his adolescent years; he wondered what was in the minds of young men like Vaan these days. "Hmm?"

"Thanks."

Basch tried to think back on the past few days. It wasn't often Vaan showed gratitude, either, from what he could tell. "For what?"

"Back in the Shiva, you know?" Vaan said, scratching the back of his head as if all this talking was giving him a hard time. "If you didn't fight Vossler, we never would have escaped."

"Oh. You're welcome."

"I mean…sorry you had to fight him. He was pretty scary, and what he did in the end was – yeah. But I know he was your best friend before, so…I'm sorry about his death."

Basch gave Vaan a good look, filled with wonder and surprise. Honestly, he had the boy pegged for a – perhaps not a fool, but someone very naïve to the ways of this world, despite his own hardships. To see that he was not as naïve as he suspected made Basch almost proud of him. It struck him that Vaan would even consider how he felt about the matter. Only he and Anya had ever asked him about it. "Thank you, Vaan." He smiled. "You are more profound than you would imagine."

Vaan grinned rubbed under his nose proudly, but frowned inwardly. 'Profound'? What was _that_ supposed to mean?

**XIIXIIXII**

With his body still immensely exhausted from the stress on the 8th fleet, Basch slept through most meals and woke for only a few hours to perform necessary tasks before sleeping again. The tension between Ashe and Anya was so thick that they would suffocate within breathing range of each other, so Anya and Nono agreed to switch rooms – without Balthier's knowledge, of course, because otherwise the head pirate would have thrown a fit. Anya spent much of her time in the day attending to Basch, waiting for him to wake so he might eat again (and pretending as if their last conversation had never occurred), and Vaan spent much of his time talking with her, asking for stories on pirate expeditions and sharing his own as an orphan in Rabanastre in turn.

Fran and Balthier disappeared for most of the day and return only for meals, prompting the curiosity of the others, which was not sated by the insistence of Nono and Anya that there was nothing special happening wherever the other two pirates were. Penelo took Ashe for a tour around the Lowtown, showing the princess secret passageways and shortcuts even the Resistance had never noted. Suffice to say, the day that followed went by without a real, tangible problem.

On the third afternoon after the 8th fleet's destruction, Ashe found herself in the Muthru Bazaar. Nono had taken her there to find her a sword better suited to her style, but she lost him in the crowd and was unable to find him since. She kept to the shadows of the marketplace, avoiding the multi-colored lights the sunlight and the spectrum of drapes over the bazaar created. Led by the familiar scent of something sweet, Ashe soon found herself in front of a stall manned by Fran. Watching her, Ashe thought there was something odd about her at that moment, but she brushed it off when she couldn't think of what it was.

The Viera was selling a few of the fragrant Eksir berries Anya had taken from that den in the Nam-Yensa, as well as a few weapons and potions. Her customers were battle-hardened warriors, by the looks of their scars and scratched armor. One slightly orange Bangaa in particular was fighting hard for one clump of Eksir berries, insisting he needed them for a Mark he had been trying to take down for days.

"Twenty-thousand," he said, slamming a satchel of coins before her, "is more than enough!"

"Twenty-five," Fran replied, turning her head away from the satchel snobbishly. "One does not easily come across Eksir berries, Monid."

"Perhaps, but even a decent weapon barely costs that much! Twenty-one!"

"We are off to Bhujerba in a few days, and I am certain the bounty hunters from Clan Diatroma would offer much higher," said Fran, shrugging. "Twenty-four thousand gil; last offer."

Monid snarled, dumping more satchels on the counter. "Fine!"

Fran smiled slightly, tossing the Bangaa his Eksir berries. "A pleasure doing business with you as always, Monid. Take care not to let the thieves into your pockets again…"

The poor Bangaa had some choice profanities to reply to that one, and he muttered them angrily as he stomped away. After a few more customers came and went, Fran was left to count her earnings and fixing the products on the stall.

Ashe approached her from behind. "Fran?"

Fran nodded in acknowledgment but didn't look away from her gil. "Hello, Ashe," she said pleasantly. "What brings you here?"

"Um—" Suddenly, she realized what had seemed so different about Fran. She was alone. "Where's Balthier?"

"Off on some business, I would assume," said Fran, seemingly indifferent. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," Ashe replied. "I suppose I've grown accustomed to seeing you two together. That's all."

Fran finally glanced at her, stifling a chuckle. Ashe felt foolish; one of the times the Viera was actually laughing, and it was at her expense. Of course. "You are aware that we are two separate entities?"

Ashe realized her own mistake and didn't mind the older woman's humor as much. "Ah…yes. Indeed."

Fran was still smiling. "You are lost?"

Ashe sighed in resignation. Had she been that obvious? "Nono brought me here, saying he would help me find a new sword, but I lost him in the crowd."

"Ah. That is easily solved," said Fran, and she pointed to an actual shop at the highest end of the Bazaar. "We purchase our weapons there. Nono is sure to be waiting already."

"Right," said Ashe gratefully, starting off for the shop. She hated being lost, feeling as if she had no control over her situation. "Thank you, Fran."

"Not a problem," said Fran, waving goodbye. When the princess was gone, Fran packed up her things and exited the busy marketplace. Where _was_ Balthier?

His location remained to be seen, but Vaan and Penelo were roaming Rabanastre in search of the (allegedly) elusive headquarters of Clan Centurio. Anya was supposed to come along, but Basch had woken right as they were about to leave, and she elected to stay with him at the Inn instead.

"We've been walking here for hours." Vaan sighed. "Let's face it. We'll never find Clan Centurio."

Penelo grabbed him by the arm and brought him forward two more steps until Vaan dug his feet into the pavement and refused to follow. She huffed. "If you're going to give up this easily on something like this, how are we gonna help Ashe save Dalmasca?"

Vaan shrugged her off. "That's different, Penelo. Nothing bad is going to happen if we never find those headquarters. On the other hand, saving Dalmasca…"

"Come on, Vaan!"

"No." Vaan crossed his arms. "We should go back to the Inn. I bet they're having snacks right now and we're missing out. And what's the point? We were never invited, so they're not even going to let us in if we do find it." Catching the sight of a man with an orange scarf up ahead, he waved, glad of the distraction from reasoning with his stubborn friend. "Oh, hey, Tomaj."

The yellow-vested man stalked up to Vaan, an impatient glower on his face. "Vaan! Where have you been? …Hi, Penelo."

Penelo smiled at the Sandsea's owner unsurely. "You've been looking for him…?"

Remembering the reason why he was shoving the younger male towards the North End of the city, on the path to Castle Rabanastre, he said to Vaan, "I recommended you to the Clan, invited you, and gave you a clue on how to find the headquarters. How do you repay me? By disappearing for a week and not even giving the Clan the time of day!"

Penelo ran after the two and asked, "Are you talking about _the_ Clan Centurio? Vaan! Why didn't you tell me you were invited?"

Basking in his own confusion, Vaan stopped and got Tomaj's hands off him. First, to Penelo: "I was never invited! I think I would've remembered if I was, right?" And to Tomaj, "If I was invited, I would've joined in a heartbeat! And then we wouldn't have had such a hard time looking for Ktjn…"

Tomaj wondered how the lad even knew the sister of one of the Clan's founders, but pressed on. "The Clan Primer! I gave you the Clan Primer!"

"What?"

"That little booklet? Don't tell me I've been staying in my own tavern too much – I watched you stuff it in that tiny vest of yours!"

"You're crazy, Tomaj. Let me show you." With skepticism etched all over his face, Vaan reached into his vest– "See? Nothi..." –and pulled out a small booklet with _Centurio Clan Primer_ imprinted in small letters at the bottom of the front cover. "Oh."

Penelo sighed. "I'm not surprised…"

Tomaj held a triumphant stance. "Anyway, now you've got to find the Clan headquarters to accept the invitation."

"Aha!" Penelo joined Tomaj in his smugness and said to Vaan, "There. Now you can't excuse yourself from finding the headquarters."

Vaan scowled at Tomaj. Two hours ago, he would have been into this. Now he just craved for more of that fruit shake. "We've been looking for your headquarters since lunch. What makes you think we'll find it now that I have a Primer?"

"You always _had_ a primer," Tomaj corrected him, bopping him lightly on the forehead. "Really, and people are calling me old? Remember that clue I gave you before? Don't answer that," he sighed. "Bangaa. Green and orange. Conspicuous."

"You know, that's not really nice–" Vaan shook his head at Tomaj reprovingly. "There are lots of green and orange Bangaa in Rabanastre, and lots of them are conspicuous! Whatever that means. Do you really expect people to—"

"Vaan, shh!" Penelo took his arm again and pointed to an indeed conspicuous green and orange Bangaa standing around the door to an area they hadn't checked yet. "How about him?"

Tomaj groaned. "Finally!"

Shooting the man a dirty look, Vaan approached the Bangaa. "Hi," he said, undaunted by the bored look in the Bangaa's eyes. "Is this the door to Clan Centurio?"

"Who's askin'?"

Vaan showed him the Clan Primer. "Vaan. Tomaj said he recommended me."

"Oh!" the Bangaa's mood lightened as he laughed. "You're that kid he's been braggin' about recruiting! Took you just about forever to find this place, huh?"

Vaan frowned. "Hey, just so you know, I've been busy! Do you remember that mushroom cloud in the sky? I was—"

"Okay, he found the headquarters," Tomaj interrupted, taking Vaan by the shoulders and heaving him towards the door. "All that's left is the judgment!"

Vaan blinked. "The judgment?"

"Wait!" the Bangaa called, stepping in front of the door. He motioned to Penelo. "Who's she?"

"Hunting party," Tomaj lied perfectly.

"Doesn't look like much of a hunting party…"

Penelo pouted, but understood the urgent look on Tomaj's face. "We didn't bring everyone."

"All right," the Bangaa shrugged. "In you go."

Before he even saw the headquarters, Vaan already knew he would love it like a second home (or third; he was hoping the _Strahl_ would be the second). There was a certain fragrance to it that had the subtlety of a jasmine, only just a bit stronger so that it got into his nose and forced its stay there, so he wouldn't have to keep sniffing to catch a whiff of it again.

And when he did see the place, he wondered if the castle's architect worked on this place, too. Two long flights of stairs flanked each side of the room, rounding into a landing where a Moogle was currently overlooking the place with the Clan's emblem draped over the railings, and below was the path into a sort of receiving room, where the Clan's members rested and ate when there was someone willing to cook in the kitchen to the side. It was all so regal; he felt like he should be seeing a princess soon.

Penelo strode before him, gasping in awe. She turned around and gave him a smile he never remembered being so sweet. "This is amazing, Vaan. I can't believe you were invited to a place so grand!"

Princess Penelo.

"No way!" Vaan yelled out, his cheeks flaming red, garnering the attention of all those seated around the stairs. "Sorry," he squeaked, prompting the members to shrug nonchalantly and return to their business. Vaan would have very much liked to see a mirror then, so he could frown at it and ask himself why in all Ivalice he'd suddenly thought of _that_. Penelo was barely even a girl. He was her best friend, obviously.

Right?

Tomaj cleared his throat. "Okay, Vaan. I'm about to bring you to the Clan leader, and he'll see if you get to join. Try to _act_ respectful, at least." He led Vaan and Penelo up the stairs to meet the Moogle who had his arms crossed above the stairs when they entered. "Montblanc," he said to him, "this is Vaan."

The Moogle turned around, sizing Vaan up with a penetrating gaze. "Our clan has a very strict entrance examination," he said, lacking the joyfulness inherent in most Moogles, as well as the endearing _kupo_ tic. "We should begin yours at once."

Vaan nodded determinedly. Anything to distract him from those puzzling thoughts from a few moments ago. "What do I have to do?"

"And you pass!" Montblanc cheered, his face suddenly springing to life. "Moogles are quick to make up their minds, kupo." He turned to Tomaj. "Strong-willed, this one! Thanks for the recommendation, kupo."

Tomaj grinned, proud of another scouting gone well, and made sure not to mention how Vaan had almost given up on finding the headquarters and that he had forgotten even being invited to the Clan.

A shred of memory from the Nam-Yensa flittered into Penelo's mind as she leaned in to whisper to Vaan. "Hey, didn't Anya say Montblanc was Nono's brother? You know, when they were talking about Clan Centurio in the Urutan-Yensa's den?"

"I don't remember," Vaan replied, refusing to look at Penelo as he did. Besides, this one and Nono looked nothing alike. Montblanc's skin was much lighter, he had yellow wings instead of pink ones, and Nono's pom-pom was orange, not yellow. Not to mention Montblanc had blond hair, oddly enough. Then again, Nono always had that hood of his up and Vaan never had the chance to see if he wasn't a little bald Moogle.

"But that was just a few days ago," Penelo groaned. "You know, Vaan, if you'd just use that thing in your head sometimes—"

With twitching ears as sensitive as a Viera's, Montblanc glanced at Penelo. "You know my brother, kupo? And my brother's keeper?"

"Oh!" Penelo debated on whether she would bow to Montblanc, what with him being the leader of the Clan and all, but remembered that Tomaj didn't and resorted to giving him a small smile. "Yes."

"And Fran, and Balthier, too?"

"We're traveling with all of them," Penelo nodded. "But we're staying in an Inn here for a while, just until one of our…uh, party members recovers."

"I see… Are you going to see him later today, kupo? I have a message to impart, if you wouldn't mind delivering it…"

"Sure." Penelo tried not to give in to her girlish urges and grab Montblanc by the cheeks. "What is it?"

Montblanc cleared his throat before going into a tirade: "Tell him he never visits anymore, kupo! Gurdy's always asking about him, wondering when he's going to bring his friends over for some sort of get together! What's family for if he never comes by, hmm? Ask him if he even knows that Hurdy's got it in his head that he's going to marry some Moogle girl working the skyferries, thinking it's all right because Nono travels around everywhere and never falls in love! Or that Horne is considering leaving his post and joining him to go out and see the world, because he wonders what could possibly keep his brother away from his own family for so long!"

Penelo wished she had brought a notebook to write it all down, but then thought that it was all interesting enough to remember by the expressions and gesticulations Montblanc made as he spoke.

"And tell him…" Montblanc breathed deeply.

"Yes?"

"Tell him to be careful, all right, kupo?" the Clan leader sighed. "He wasn't born a fighter, that Nono. It's not that I don't trust those pirates to keep him safe, but…if he keeps up that silly act of being a child, one day he's going to end up hurt, kupo. I mean, we're Moogles, not stuffed toys! Could you tell him that, please?"

"Of course," said Penelo, nodding vigorously. "I'll tell him as soon as I see him."

"Oh, and could you give this to him, kupo?" Montblanc gave her a simple looking belt with a round, blue buckle. "He sent me a letter some weeks ago asking if I could find a Bubble belt for one of his Humes. Can you believe it, kupo? He barely even asked about my health…"

"What's wrong?" Penelo asked. "Are you ailing in any way?"

"No," Montblanc scoffed, as if the very idea was absurd. "It's just nice to be asked a simple _how do you do_ from someone you care about every now and then, don't you think, kupo?"

Penelo stole a glance at Vaan, who seemed to be arguing with Tomaj in hushed tones. "Yeah."

Vaan, who was being scolded by Tomaj for not telling him he knew the great Clan leader's brother, brushed the older man off and turned to Montblanc. "Well, thanks for the membership," he said, really trying his best at propriety. If the pirates thought highly of this group, then Montblanc deserved even more respect than that Vayne Solidor received from Migelo. "I really, uh, appreciate it. We'll tell Nono to come visit you some more."

"Thanks, kupo!" Montblanc said, genuinely grateful. If that tirade hadn't scared off the new recruits, nothing would! "Glad to have you on board! Take care now."

"You too, Montblanc," Penelo said, slowly leading Vaan down the stairs. Once they reached the door, she grabbed his hand and bolted before Tomaj could catch up with them, despite Vaan's pink-cheeked protests for the girl to let him go.

He looked down at their hands, intertwined as if they would never let each other go. It was weird; he had never thought of it that way before.

Once Tomaj was out of sight, the two stopped by the fountain at the southern plaza and Vaan managed to steal his hand back from Penelo's grasp.

Vaan smoothed a thumb over the hand Penelo had taken, biting his lip as if to soothe the pain. Penelo frowned. "What's wrong with you, Vaan?"

"Nothing!" Vaan insisted, shoving his hands behind his back. "You've just got a killer grip, that's all… Anyway," he said, eager to get the topic of conversation away from their hands, "That was Nono's brother, huh? They sure looked different. I mean, their pom-poms and wings, and I'm pretty sure Nono doesn't have blond hair…"

Penelo rolled her eyes. "You have blond hair and Reks didn't, but I'm pretty sure he was still your brother."

"Oh, right."

"Don't worry, Vaan. I understand if it hurts your head to think too much," Penelo laughed, tapping his right temple playfully.

Vaan swatted her away irritably. Basch told him a few days before that he was more profound (Ashe explained what it meant) than he thought himself to be, and Basch always seemed to know what he was talking about. The older man's statement had given him some sort of longing, some hope that he wouldn't be stuck being the clueless, slow one forever.

"Vaan?"

He didn't like picking fights with his friends, least of all Penelo, because he knew they saw him as the humorous type anyone could joke around with – and he was – but her comments about his brain were starting to get to him. Still, he let it pass, because she was, after all, his best friend. He just needed some time to cool down and think of how to tell her he didn't like her talking to him like that anymore…

"Vaan! Helloooo." Penelo leaned closer and looked into his eyes, searching for the boy she grew up with. "Is anyone there?"

"Yeah," Vaan said, taking a step back. "Listen, I have something to…do…"

Penelo quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really? You, Vaan?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Vaan lashed out, still irate, and ran off.

"Wait!" Penelo attempted to follow, but he was already lost in the throngs of people filing into the Sandsea. "Vaan…did he really have something to do?"

Vaan burst into Basch's room, stomping his feet as he made his way to Anya's bed. As he plopped himself on it and crossed his arms crossly, he noticed there was no one else in the room but Basch. "Anya?" he called out.

Anya stepped out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on her singlet. "Hello, Vaan. Any luck finding the headquarters?"

Vaan frowned, as if her speaking was interrupting his own. "Yeah," he said dismissively. He didn't want to talk about this. "It turns out Tomaj invited me before, and Montblanc judged me and he said I passed and that Nono never visits. What happened to Basch?"

Anya took a seat on the sofa across the beds, her eyes on Vaan. "He fell asleep again. Wait, tell me everything. You were invited to the Clan? That's incredible, Vaan! Montblanc is a magnificent warrior, considering his…" she giggled, "Cute little stature."

Vaan squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. "Am I an idiot?"

Anya's lips twisted curiously at his off tangent replies. She was beginning to wonder what had happened in those headquarters. "Uh…no."

"Good! Because–because–"

"Because…?"

"Because it's like everyone thinks I am!"

Anya quickly rose from her seat and took her place beside the younger adolescent. He was a bit too late in his teens to start believing that the world was against him, but perhaps he had just never had the time before. In a way, she was guilty of being part of that 'everyone'; she didn't think he was an idiot, no, not something so crass, but she had exchanged some humor with the others at his expense at one point in their travels. But she was proud that he would share thoughts so personal with her, of all people, and decided to at least try and deserve the honor. "That's not true. What brought this on, Vaan? Did someone tell you they thought you were an idiot?"

"Not outright." Vaan was still staring at the floor. "But Penelo's been teasing me about it and she thinks it's funny, but it's really not."

Penelo! Of course. If she hadn't been the one to aggrieve him, he would have gone to her for this comfort. But Anya couldn't imagine that sweet girl as the type to hurt Vaan so, or perhaps it was that she and the girl weren't comfortable enough with each other to banter the way she and Vaan did, yet.

"She didn't mean it," Anya said, patting him on the back. "You are her best friend, after all, and she would never try to hurt you on purpose. Look, Nono and I always tease each other about being foolish, but we've never once meant to scathe. If what she says pains you, however, then you should tell her. She'll understand. That's what friends are for."

"Yeah…" Vaan nodded, his annoyance slowly wearing off. "Yeah. Next time she does it again, I'll just tell her. Thanks, Anya."

"You're welcome," said Anya, and returned to observing the sleeping figure on the other bed.

All better, Vaan stood up and stretched his arms. "Hey, want some of that fruit shake I got before?"

"No, thank you." Anya thought back on the drink Vaan so loved some days before and frowned. "Vaan, you're seventeen, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Are you sure you don't want some? It's really good…"

"I'm sure," she said. As Vaan shrugged and left the room, Anya wondered when Archadia had lowered the drinking age in Rabanastre.

Fran strolled into the Aerodrome, following the familiar scent of her partner. Finally, she found him working on a _Strahl _that had been damaged by the 8th fleet's explosion, wearing an apron and a frilly bandana that hardly matched his collar and sleeves.

To be exact, he was cleaning.

Fran tossed their pouch down beside the airship and approached her partner, dutifully wiping the bottom half of their airship. She went under it to crouch beside him and saw the grime all over his face. A Nanna playing around in the mud in springtime was cleaner.

"Attending to your cleaning duties?" She tapped a finger on his nose, wiping the dirt off and seeing a patch of his fair skin again. "Or hiding from your crew? Naughty pirate."

Balthier grinned guiltily. "You found me."

Fran took a piece of cloth from the pouch and wiped his face clean. There were still a few smudges of dust, but he looked much better than a Nanna now. "Running away?"

"Hardly. You know cleaning gives me time to think."

Fran chuckled. "Which is exactly why you abhor it," she said, before worry overcame her features. "What worries you so that you must think?"

"Trivial things," Balthier shrugged. "What happens at the end of this adventure. When we'll have our next vacation. If Anya will _ever_ leave Basch's side. You know, right before I left the Inn, she'd practically taken Nono's bed for herself!"

Fran nodded, deciding that Anya was smart enough not to need Balthier's dabbling in her affairs now, especially the room-switching business with the princess. She had heard their intense argument the other day and understood, but she hadn't asked about it for privacy's sake.

"You are thinking about him, then. About your…"

He stopped being anything to me when he started talking to himself," Balthier frowned. "Those experiments… I know him. He'll stop at nothing."

"And yet even as you know him, you can do nothing," Fran said, removing Balthier's bandana and apron and leading him out into the open. He really had no business wearing her cleaning apparel, after all. "Unless you plan to…?"

"No…I couldn't. Not now."

Fran nodded. "If Ashe pursues this to its end, there is a chance you may have to. Would you?"

Balthier's eyebrows furrowed. He glanced up into his Viera's eyes. "Would you fly with me?"

Fran laughed as if it were foolish to even ask. "Anywhere."

**XIIXIIXII**

_The rivers rushed out and branched into streams, like dreams they once thought they could see to fulfillment. The grass below tickled her legs as they swayed, little creatures crawling over her feet, attending to their daily existence. Thick copses of trees rose high above them, like the great towers in a city that had become her second home, but this was her home. Running, screaming through the forest, jumping into the basins where the waterfalls ended and catching little toads with their bare fingers, the princess screaming out in disgust and the prince begging his sister to kiss the frog so he might have another prince to play with…_

_"Anastacia," a voice in the process of breaking called. "What's the matter with you? Don't you want to play anymore?"_

_She stopped her daydreaming and looked at her hands. Funny; she seemed to remember them being a little bigger, but she supposed she could stay a child for a little while longer. A twelve-year old Rasler stood before her, his worried expression turning into a mischievous grin when he realized she was back to her senses. _

_"Can't catch me!"_

_Anastacia leapt after him, ignoring the scratches and bruises she received from the shrubs she dove through to find him. "Rasler!" she called out in a voice smaller than she had grown accustomed to, and was almost able to grab the back of her brother's shirt. "Got you!"_

_Rasler picked up the pace before she could actually touch him and laughed. "You'll have to run faster, Anastacia, or else you'll always be _it_!"_

_"You're so unfair!" she cried out, attempting to run as fast as her little legs would take her. An eight-year old girl's legs could hardly match Rasler's. "Brother, let me catch you!"_

_"Oh, all right, all right," he said, slowing his pace, but even as he did Anastacia felt as if the world was stretching, pulling him further and farther away from her._

_"Rasler! Wait!" she yelled, her heart almost ready to give out. Any more running and it would beat out of her chest. She stopped against a tree, panting as she caught her breath, holding her hand out to her brother to stop him, but he kept on running and she could only watch his retreating figure finally disappear from her sight._

_The world shifted. She wiped the sweat from the bottom of her chin, catching a hold of herself, and realized how much her hands had grown. Despair enveloped her entire being, and as she gasped for air, she realized her surroundings had changed. Ashelia was beside her, and Uncle-King Raminas, and the rest of the inhabitants of Castle Rabanastre. They stood at the top of the stairs, where they had said goodbye to Rasler and the troops and Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, that golden-haired man she had seen walking around the castle of late. _

_Ashelia was holding her other hand. Squeezing it, as if she wanted to cut off her blood flow completely and kill her. But she wouldn't do that, Anastacia reasoned, because her sister loved her, didn't she?_

_An airship landed before them. Ashelia squeezed harder. _

_Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg stepped out first. Anastacia realized how handsome he was, even before the Empire had taken him and whipped him and destroyed all of him, and wondered why she never noticed it before. A warm feeling defeated the despair for a moment as his eyes met hers and she found herself unable to think clearly, but at the anguish in his steel blue orbs the despair came over her again and won out. Behind him, a group of soldiers carried a young man in glorious ivory armor lined with gold and ultramarine, his eyes almost empty as they brought him out of the airship._

_The Captain approached her. "I am sorry," he said, and Anastacia felt like dying. She wished he would take her up into himself and tell her he was only playing around with her, that Rasler had done this deliberately as an awful practical joke, but he only gave her those terrible, sorrowful eyes and she knew it was all real._

_Anastacia moved past him and approached her brother, his mouth open slightly as he tried to speak. Ashelia was beside her, her voice breaking as she took his hand and begged him to live._

_"Ashe…" he croaked out, the shimmer in his once playful eyes falling, "I…love you. Anast…acia. Promise…take care of…"_

_Anastacia couldn't bear the sight of him. In another life, she had stayed and told him yes, she would take care of his wife and that she loved him and would never forget him, but she couldn't watch him die a second time. Using the soldiers as leverage, she tore herself away from him and ran off, ignoring the gasps and murmurs from the crowd below as she pushed through them, navigating her way through to escape the once magnificent Rabanastre._

_The Chocobo Rentals were up ahead. She expected to see Gurdy, but a zebra-haired man was attending to the stables instead, his back turned to her. By this time she had already known that posture, that stance of his, by heart. "_Tatah_!" she exclaimed in relief, reaching out for his shoulder, but as he turned, his nose and mouth and eyes changed and his hair was the color of the sands of the Phon Coast, where they had once gone with mother and father._

_"R-Rasler…"_

_He was angry. But more so, he was disappointed. _

_"Why did you leave me to die, Anastacia?" he asked, approaching her. "What have you done with yourself?" His voice began to shake as he tore her wig off and saw how short her hair was. He used to run his hands along them, when she couldn't get to sleep after mother died. Now the ends barely even touched her neck. "And your eyes…" He grabbed her face and pressed their foreheads together, his tears dripping on her cheeks. "My sister…what have you done?"_

Anya gasped, shooting up in cold sweat. She leaned her forehead against her knees once she realized she had awoken, shaking her head and breathing. "It was the Empire…not me…"

There was someone kneeling at the side of her bed, whispering words of comfort. "Anya, it was just a dream. Anya…"

Basch had been awake for some time, having slept too much in the day and now finding his sleeping patterns in complete disarray. He came to Anya's side as soon as she woke, breathing heavily and muttering to herself almost fearfully.

"S-Sir Basch," she uttered, noticing his presence. It felt like ages since she had seen that scar on his left brow. "You're awake. Did you want something to drink?"

"Don't," said Basch, stopping her from getting up. "I feel much better now. Are you all right?"

"Yes." Anya wished she could tear her wig off and show him who she was, just so he could run his fingers across her hair, as only the most important men in her life had done before. "As you said, it was only a dream."

Basch nodded, not believing her for a second. "You should return to sleep."

"I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep now…" And she thought it better that she didn't, because that dream was… Anya shuddered.

Basch almost pitied her. She hadn't ever looked this shaken up. "You could always ask me to tell you a story. According to our old recruits, it was a surefire way to fall asleep."

Anya watched him, kneeling before her and trying to help. "You're not boring, you know. Not in the least."

Basch smiled. "Thank you."

"But – you would really tell me a story? Even without receiving information from me first?"

"We are friends, are we not?"

"Yes," Anya beamed, looking into his steel blue eyes, and it made her so happy that she reached out to touch his hand on the edge of her blankets. She pulled them away once his eyes widened in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right," Basch said, nodding awkwardly, but didn't move his hand away. He had been shocked, but her touch wasn't unpleasant in the least. "Would you like to hear about Lady Anastacia?"

"No." Anastacia normally liked hearing about herself, but not today. She was still tired from all the running. "Actually, I was hoping you could tell me about… Lord Rasler. The Prince."

Basch tilted his head curiously. "Lord Rasler? Of–of course. But why the sudden interest?"

"No reason," Anya shrugged. "It's just – it has been a long time since I heard anything about him. After his death, things took a spiraling descent, and…the war was much too taxing on everyone for him to be remembered. I want to know how you remember him."

The sorrow in her voice sent pain rippling through his chest. He wished to see that smile again, that joy in her eyes when she had taken his hand. Perhaps it was the night clouding his mind…but as things were, he felt as if he would do anything to see her light up again. When had she become so important to him like this?

"All right," he said, encouraging her with a smile of his own. "Prince Rasler was every bit as mischievous as Princess Anastacia. But unlike the princess, who basked in the love of their father, the Prince felt unworthy and tried his best to please King Perraen. He was always very serious during his training, unless Lady Anastacia was around to watch. Even as a child, he understood his responsibilities as crown prince and studied what was taught to him to the best of his ability. Where his sister excelled in music and the arts, he excelled in academics and combat. Yet despite their differences in interest, they were always very close…"

Anya hung on to his every word, but her grim demeanor didn't change. "Do you think he was a good person?" she asked, his tearful face vivid in her memory. "Was he really the prince the history books will proclaim him to have been?"

"Without a doubt," Basch replied, sensing that it was the answer she needed to hear, but it hadn't been untrue. "He was never pompous. He loved his father, sister and wife ardently. His last words are still fresh in my mind: he told the Lady Ashe that he loved her, and asked his sister to take care of her because he knew he would – he would soon pass. Prince Rasler was also very – kind. On our way to Nabudis, though it hadn't been necessary, he came to me and expressed joy over the fact that it was I King Perraen had chosen to have wedded to his—"

Basch stopped upon hearing a noise from somewhere in the room. It was an odd sniffling sound coming from– "Anya?" he rose and held her by the shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes were misty and her lips were trembling. He didn't understand why this had come about. "What's wrong, Anya?"

A whimpering noise rose from the back of her throat, and all of a sudden, Anya burst into tears. She curled up, reaching to cover her face as she sobbed. Rasler used to tell her she was hideous when she cried so she would stop, but there was no one to tell her that anymore. "I-I miss him s-so much," she cried, not even holding back the small wails that would come when she tried to breathe. "I would g-give my life to have him b-back!"

"Lord Rasler…?"

"No, of c-course not!" she cried out almost angrily. "It's j-just…talking about any N-Nabradian makes me think of m-my – my family. I meant my b-brother! My brother, m-murdered with my parents when…when they tried to fight against the Archadian Empire! I hate the Empire!" she screamed, gritting her teeth and allowing the tears to spill out of her eyes, ignoring how sticky they were on her cheeks. "I hate the Empire so much…!"

Basch had dealt with mourning women many times in his life, but his comforting of them had always been impersonal: a slight pat on the back and an apology, and then he left them to their families. He was always the one sent to deliver grave news to the loved ones of his fallen men. But how was he to deal with someone that mattered now, to him? No pat or apology would ever work, and she had no family to speak of. Clearly, Fran and Balthier did not know of this sorrow, otherwise she wouldn't have been crying to him then. His heart ached as he watched her sob, closing in on herself and crying.

He wanted to take her up into himself and tell her it was going to be all right – and he did. Basch moved closer, taking her tiny body into his arms and wrapping his arms around her as if that would finally protect her from all the horrors of the world. For a moment, as he cradled her into his chest, Anastacia actually felt as if it did.

"I am certain they were great people," he whispered, rubbing her back to comfort her.

"They were!" Anya sobbed, digging her face into his chest as she tried to settle down. Her wails dissipated into short intakes of breath as Basch's warmth worked its way through to calming her. "They were. Wh-why couldn't I lose in this life a-and play with them in the next? I want to be with them…I want to b-be with them again, but I p-promised…"

"Shh," Basch soothed, slowly resting his head on hers. He comforted her a little longer and gave her space to readjust her position in his arms, unaware of how much time had passed since their conversation began. When all was quiet and there were no more sniffles, a thought came to mind. "Wait, Anya. What did you say – about losing? And playing?"

Basch released her slightly to ask for a reply, but Anya had already fallen asleep. She fell into him once more, her mouth open as she breathed with some effort. He sighed. Perhaps she had heard it from Anastacia, who had so often spoken of games. Would she remember this in the morning? It seemed a great step in their friendship, or – whatever it was they had. He felt almost guilty that she knew so little about him when he knew so much of her sorrow. He would tell her more, Basch decided, when she was ready to talk again.

He wouldn't have thought of releasing her again had his thigh not begun to grow numb with the weight. Almost reluctantly, he moved to set her down on her pillow, leaning over her body so they would not touch inappropriately. Before rising, he caught sight of her lips, and his eyes traveled up to her nose, and her eyes, and the gentle curve of her dyed eyebrows. Basch had never realized how familiar the contours of her face were. Perhaps he had seen her in Castle Nabudis before and never noticed?

Before he could wonder about the true color of her hair, Fran walked into the room.

She quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the older man leaning over her little Hume's face, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"Fran!" Basch was away from Anya in a flash, nearly hitting his head on the lamp near the headrest. "It – it is anything but what it seems."

Fran had been fairly sure the Captain would never do a thing to hurt any of her Humes, but she was still curious as to what his explanation would be.

"Anya – she had a nightmare, you see. It must have been terrible, for she began to cry…I had no recourse but to attempt to comfort her. She fell asleep almost immediately after."

Fran knew the true way of it – she had woken to use the bathroom, and from there it was easy to hear what they had been speaking of – it had taken almost a quarter of an hour for her little Hume to finally surrender to the silence. The Viera wasn't sure of how she felt about this man knowing instantly that he was to protect the 'truth' from being learned by her and Balthier, but tonight, tired as she was, she decided to be glad it hadn't been Ashe whom Anya had shared all this with.

"It is odd," she said, noting the way Basch still wouldn't return to his bed.

"What is?" Basch asked warily.

"Anya has not spoken the truth to anyone in…a long time." Not since she joined them, Fran remembered. Now that had been a long night.

"What do you mean?" Basch stood, meaning to approach her. "Do you know the truth?"

Deliberately ignoring him, Fran took a last look at Anya and turned to leave.

An alarm rang out in Basch's mind. If Balthier found out at this time, he would… "Fran, wait—"

Fran whirled, ready to interrupt him. "Fret not," she said, a hand on the doorknob. "Balthier is a heavy sleeper. But remember—if you hurt her, he is a good shot."

* * *

You can really see which pairings besides BaschxOC I support here. Which Ashe pairing do I support? SOMEDAY YOU'LL KNOW (no it is not AshexBasch. GOSH). In the next story. Yeah. There's gonna be one. If I can get off my lazy butt and finish this one! HEEHEEHEE

Yes, I used Ktjn differently here. Story is she's been around for a while but she sucks at adapting, and she actually hangs out with her sister. Ktjn's a pretty good fighter too here (though you won't be able to see it, I'm just saying she is in the story), she just doesn't show it because she's too busy spending time with Vossler to do things like join Clan Centurio. **PM me if you want my backstory on Ktjn and Vossler**, and no, this Vossler-romance wasn't a half-assed thing I made up at the last minute. There are some clues in the past chapters, mostly the way Vossler looks at Fran (because she reminds him of Ktjn), and…yeah. Sorry to the AshexVossler shippers out there.

ALSO. Yes, haha, the thing Vaan loved drinking was alcohol. He just didn't know it. Lucky Vaan has a naturally high tolerance for the stuff!

I ran around Rabanastre today on the PS2 (obviously...) and realized how much I adore Moogles in FFXII. Which is why Montblanc is here. And Nono! I know Nono docked the Strahl in Bhujerba after the 8th fleet's explosion, but he could have just as easily maneuvered it to Rabanastre. I wanna see more interaction among the moogle siblings.

And about Ashe--I know she isn't inclined to insanity as much as Anastacia is, but it's the second time she's seen someone she loves (well, in this story she did) die, and I think that's enough reason for anyone to go a little berserk. She may have seemed fine right after his death, but with nothing to do but wait for Basch to recover and think and think and think, Ashe had enough time to cover up Vossler's last 'betrayal' in her mind and only remember the good parts of him, as well as find someone to blame for his death (person being Anya, and sort of Basch, because he just _had _to save Anya and kill Vossler).

**Nameless-Sinner: I didn't actually mean for this update to be super long either, but...WOOT! XD Yeah, Vossler's a smart guy. He knows how Ashe would react upon discovering that Anastacia never really died, and he doesn't want her emotions getting in the way of saving Dalmasca because he knows she's a ruled-by-emotions sorta gal. **

**Thanks for reviewing! =)**

REVIEWWWWW!

see you next time! ;D


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary: Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget.**

Woooooooot break chapter! I've looked forward to this chapter MY WHOLE LIIIIIFE!

Well, not really. Probably since the 4th chapter or so. So basically I've been waiting two years. But that's okay, because it's finally heeeeere! It didn't turn out the way I pictured it in the beginning, but lots of plans do change over time...anyway!

Again, **TO ALL THE BASCH LOVERS OUT THERE =))** y'know, the ones who came here for Basch only and not the story whatever (hahaha), this is your chapter! This is THE chapter. You know. So far. I'm not saying any more than that XD only that I hope you enjoy it!

**BY THE WAY! LOOK HERE BEFORE YOU READ**:) the song (instrumental) that the Garif will play later, I imagined it to be _The Hills of Ireland_(it's commonly mistaken as a song by Enya, but it isn't). I realized too late that the Garif were supposed to be African (the way Archadians are English, Rozarrians are Italians, etc), so just go along with it, please :D It's really nice to listen to, though, so I suggest that you listen to it while reading that part (you'll know when you get there!)

ENJOY!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

The seven met in Fran's room the next morning after breakfast. With Basch up and about, Balthier decided that it was finally time to move forward, not to mention he was growing restless with doing close to nothing when there were still madmen raging about in the world. Penelo and Vaan, though friends again, unknowingly chose sides and sat with Ashe and Anya, respectively, while the two were still distant and stayed as far away from each other as possible. Basch, Balthier, and Fran were in the middle, the only 'adults' in the meeting. Nono was off spending time with his siblings.

"So it was the Dawn Shard that brought down the Imperial Fleet," Basch started, sitting back so he could get a view of everyone. Why were the others sitting so far apart?

Balthier didn't care. "You know your stuff."

"Destructive power of such force – I've seen it once before." Basch secretly glanced at Anya, then to Ashe. He was pretending not to have heard a word of what the princess said a few days earlier. "Your Highness, you know of what I speak."

"…Nabudis."

"The capital of Old Nabradia, Lord Rasler's fatherland," Basch said softly, almost cringing, as if doing so would stop Anya from hearing about her old homeland. "At the time of the invasion, a division of Imperials entered the city—there was a mighty explosion. Friend and foe died alike. Something was there – one of the Dynast-King's Relics. The Midlight Shard was in Nabradia."

Balthier and Fran noted that Anya had her gaze glued to her feet. She was trying not to hear a thing, they knew, but they couldn't spare her this conversation. After all, she wasn't even supposed to be Anastacia. "More Nethicite," Balthier spat. "Well, no wonder they invaded."

Ashe clenched the Dawn Shard in her fist. "That ridiculous war, the trap at the treaty-signing—all this because Vayne wanted power. He must not be allowed to claim the Nethicite. The Empire must never hold it."

Balthier crossed his arms at the princess's naivety. "Oh? They already do. The Dusk Shard, most likely the Midlight Shard, too." He asked Anya for a nod of affirmation for that one, and she gave it. "Besides, can't they manufact Nethicite now?"

Ashe rose, nodding to herself. "Very well, the path set before us is clear. We'll use the Dawn Shard to fight them!" The momentum in her voice began to build. "Dalmasca does not forget kindness nor ill deed done. With sword in hand she aids her allies. Sword in hand, she lays to rest her foes. This Nethicite I hold – it must be my sword. I will avenge those who have died – and the Empire will know remorse!"

Anya felt goose bumps rising in her skin. Anastacia had never admired Ashelia this much before, and she would have clapped her hands and cheered had she known the princess was no longer angry with her.

Balthier watched her skeptically, as did Vaan, who spoke after some thought. "…You even know how to use it?"

Ashe's face fell. "I–"

"The Garif may know," Fran offered, saving the princess from complete humiliation. "The Garif people live by the old ways. Magicite Lore is a part of their culture. They may hear it – the cry of the Nethicite's power. Whispers of the Stone's menace."

Ashe nodded gratefully. "Dangerous though it be, what we need now is power. Should we declare Dalmasca free without the means to defend our claim, the Empire would crush us." She turned to Fran hopefully. "You must take me to meet with the Garif."

"They live beyond the Ozmone Plain," the Viera replied, glancing at Balthier.

Fran was being much too generous for Balthier's liking. What was she up to? Still, he added, "Not exactly close."

Ashe closed her eyes irritably. "Compensation – is that what you want?"

Balthier grinned. "Straight to the point, aren't we? I like that. Compensation? How about…" He cast a glance around the room and saw Anya staring at the rings on the woman's left hand. "How about the ring."

"This?" Ashe gave him an almost pleading look. "Isn't there something else?"

Balthier shrugged. "No one's forcing you. Anya," he pointed to the princess's hand. "Which one should suffice?"

Anya wished he wouldn't involve her in something that would only increase Ashe's irritation with her, but she couldn't say no to his expectant stare. "The engagement ring." Rasler had chosen it himself.

Ashe grunted, giving Anya a slight glare, but removed the ring from her middle finger and dropped it in Balthier's outstretched palm before walking out of the room. Penelo followed suit.

"I'll give it back to you," the pirate called after the princess, a hint of amusement in his voice. "As soon as I find something more valuable."

Vaan's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean, _something more valuable_?"

"Hard to say," Balthier said thoughtfully, tossing the ring up in the air before catching it and giving it to Anya for safekeeping. "What is it you want, Vaan? What are _you_ looking for?"

"M-Me?" Vaan was taken aback. No one had really asked him what he wanted since…before. "What am I looking for? I guess—well—you know…"

Balthier didn't wait for his reply and followed Fran out of the room. Anya stood, beckoning to the last two in the room. "You don't have to know now," she said. "Just something for everyone to think about, I suppose..."

Basch walked by her side. "The Garif are said to dwell in Kerwon."

"So they do," Balthier threw his voice to the back of the group. "We'll need to head south, past the Giza Plains."

"It is the rains now," Basch added. "The Wadis will be swollen with the Deluge. Passage may be difficult."

Balthier stopped to send Basch a smirk. "I had you pegged for an optimist. You were supposed to say that those same waters may also lay open new routes to us."

Ashe sighed, finding the banter unnecessary. "Regardless, we must go south, yes?"

"Tut tut, first things first," said Balthier, reminding the princess of tutors from a lifetime ago. "You're eager to be on your way, we know, but we should see that we're prepared before setting out."

Ashe held the Dawn Shard to her heart. "I made my resolve two years ago. I swore to overcome any hardship I may face."

Balthier snorted. "Man cannot live by resolve alone, Princess." Turning, he said, "Anya, will you oversee the preparations? We'll notify Nono and rendezvous at the Southgate."

"Done," said Anya, obediently, and strode past the rest to set out and complete her given tasks. Vaan and Basch followed.

Basch could see the outline of Ashe's ring in Anya's pocket as she led them across to Rabanastre's East End and counted the gil in her pouch. "Anya," he said, and said it another time, only louder, to draw her attention from the money. Behind them, Vaan had his hands clasped behind his head as he watched the airships whiz across the sky.

Anya muttered something to herself about being able to buy a little more than was needed before glancing up. "Yes?"

To Basch's surprise, she hadn't avoided speaking of what occurred the night before that morning. Before bathing for breakfast, she thanked him for his kindness and even said he had her trust. How hard it was to gain a pirate's trust the man was unaware of, but he valued it all the same and was happy to discover that she now openly spoke of her love of dancing, and explained that she did it in secret because Balthier preferred that she practice gun-wielding instead.

"What value does Balthier see in Her Majesty's ring?"

Anya gave it some thought and decided with a shrug. "Neither _Amba_ nor _Tatah_ told me they were going to ask for any ring. For leverage, maybe? I can't really say… We don't usually join others on their journeys like this. Balthier hardly ever settles for playing the part of anything less than a leading man's."

"Leading man?"

Anya laughed and shook her head. "Personality quirk. Trust me, it isn't something you need know. But once he does find something _more valuable_…whatever that might be…he'll return it. I know he may not look it, but _Tatah_ is a man of his word."

Basch looked at her curiously. "You truly trust him, don't you?"

"With my life," she answered with frightening conviction. Such trust in such a precarious man. "He has never failed me…or_Amba_."

"I do not doubt that you are very important to him," said Basch, remembering Balthier's sour mood when they had been brought to the Leviathan for the first time, and the way he had watched his two partners. "But—"

"So what kind of preparations was Balthier talking about?" Vaan asked, having caught up with them when he realized they were leaving him behind.

"The Giza during the rains invites tougher monsters out in the open. We can't let ourselves become susceptible to the incurable curse of the common colds, but we can't pirouette with umbrellas and allow the fiends to hack us to death, either." Anya sighed. "This is what airships are for…"

Basch looked thoughtful. "Not many years ago, a Rozarrian invented a device that could shield one from the rain and allow them to work under it at the same time."

Vaan glanced at him grimly. "You don't mean…"

**XIIXIIXII**

Once they reached the division between the accursed Giza and the cloudy Ozmone, where the storms from the former plain came to a staggering stop, Balthier reached for his umbrella hat and threw it to the ground. "Worst idea ever come to fruition, that hat!"

"Did you have a better alternative?" Basch asked indignantly, running past him. "It was you, after all, who disturbed that Gator during the process of its wooing a female."

"Balthier!" Vaan stopped to flail his arms wildly. "Come on!"

"_Tatah_!" Anya yelled, and even Fran muttered his name with some exasperation. Penelo and Ashe glanced at each other, too shocked at his actions to speak.

"Relax," said the pirate, dismissing all their panicked expressions with a wave of his hand. Performing a concise victory dance on the umbrella hat, he took it from under his muddy shoes and thrust it into the jaws of the Wooly Gator that had finally reached him and almost eaten him whole. Dusting his hands off with a few claps, he approached them smugly. "Problem solved. And not a sniffle to speak of! Damn Rains…"

Had Fran been an average person without the hardening experience of a sky pirate and the collectedness innate within a Viera, she would have slapped him and screamed at him and told him not to ever make her worry like that again. Luckily for Balthier, his Viera was anything but average. Instead, she gave him a sort-of glare that bordered between nonchalant and absolutely furious, and turned her back on him. "Let's move on."

Balthier wore an incredulous expression. He saved them, didn't he? And he'd gotten rid of that hideous umbrella hat, too; it was like shooting two Garuda with one Eksir berry, so what was the problem?

Discarding her hat as she passed him, Anya whispered, somewhat humorously, "Oh my, I think _Amba_ may be angry with you."

Basch slowed his pace and fell to the center of the party with Vaan, keeping away from Fran's icier-than-usual demeanor. "Do Viera have monthly cycles as well?"

"How should I know?" Vaan replied. Neither Reks nor Migelo had ever taught him what monthly cycles even were, and he just figured Penelo felt like being moody every month to pick on him. He walked closer to Anya. "Hey, do Viera have monthly cycles, too?"

Anya shot him a dirty look in reply and shook her head in disgust before walking faster.

"What?" Vaan frowned, looking back at Basch. "What did I say?"

Basch smiled at him apologetically. "It may have been rude to even ask. Another female, especially."

"Are we setting up camp soon?" Penelo asked, flanking Fran's sides with Ashe. They hoped to be spared from Fran's apparent mood, as fellow female members of the party. "We only stopped for lunch, and that was under a boulder. I mean…"

"We don't mean to complain," Ashe finished, "But… the sun's about to set, and…"

"It is all right," the Viera replied. "But the Vipers abundant in the Ozmone are strong, and their venom, deadly. We must find a place hidden from nests and there we will set up camp."

There was no camping until a few hours after midnight, because the Ozmone Plain was indeed crawling with serpents, and Fran refused to risk a Viper ambush on the party.

"Come with me," she had said to Basch when it was surely dinner time and Vaan was beginning to crawl instead of walk. To the others, she ordered, "You will stay here. Be wary of the fiends."

Basch glanced from side to side, wondering if it had been him she called, and caught only a tired glance from Vaan and an eyeroll from Balthier, whom the Viera was still pointedly ignoring.

"You're going to hunt," Anya whispered with much effort. Due to fatigue, they had stopped speaking long after the sunset. "Often she takes Nono with her. I suppose that makes you his replacement for tonight."

"Ah." Basch ignored the curious stares of the others and followed Fran away from the party.

With the moody Viera out of sight, Vaan allowed himself to slump down to the grass. "Where are they going?"

"Dinner," Anya replied, propping him up behind her as she sat. They leaned against each other with equal force and were able to sit up.

"What?" Vaan frowned. Had Penelo not known any better, she would have thought he was drunk. "Without us?"

"They're going to _get_us dinner, obviously," said Balthier, irritably. He still hadn't figured out why Fran was giving him an attitude. She hadn't been like this since they met in Jahara.

"Get up," Ashe said to Vaan while keeping her eyes away from Anya, and resisted the urge to lean against a nearby rock. "Fran told us to watch out for Vipers. Or those cunning Mesmenir…"

"I'm tired," Vaan said, looking up to Ashe with a purposely sad face. Anya agreed with a wave of her hand.

"And then you'll be dead if we're ambushed," Penelo said to Anya, offering her hand to the girl first. "Come on, guys, up…_Oof_!" Penelo was so tired that Anya's weight was enough to pull her down onto the girl. The pirate fell back against Vaan, and their faces would have made Ashe double over with laughter if she wasn't so tired and hungry. Balthier rolled his eyes.

Half an hour later, Fran and Basch returned with meat already cooked and chopped to bits for them. They were too sleepy to remember to ask what it was, and trudged off again silently until some hours after midnight when Fran found a circular formation of rocks she judged safe enough for rest. They had fallen to the ground, with not even Balthier using a cloth to cover the grass under their heads.

The next morning, Fran woke Basch earlier than the rest to hunt again, and an hour before the sun was too high in the sky, the two woke the others for breakfast.

If Vaan had thought he was tired of all the sand from the Ogir-Yensa and the Nam-Yensa, he was beginning to grow weary of all the rocks in the Ozmone Plain. Generally, he was a friend of the pebble, as the little stone had helped him annoy and distract many an Imperial in its day, so he guessed it wasn't the actual rock that was the problem. It was the shape, those sharp angles the rocks had in the Ozmone, that really bothered him. He couldn't walk three steps without tripping over a bunch of the little headaches. No, really. One of the Zu they encountered flying around the hills like it _owned_ the place actually swooped down and grabbed some rocks to throw at his head.

And then came lunch.

They were eating from leaves. Vaan didn't really mind, but he had always liked to know what he was eating.

"So…" He chewed his food while asking, "What is this stuff, anyway?"

It was tempting to ask him to close his mouth when he ate, but the rest restrained themselves and continued eating.

Vaan quirked an eyebrow. "Hello?"

"I'm…actually curious about it, too," Penelo said.

"Are you certain you'd like to know?" asked Basch.

"What?" Anya asked, more curious than ever, and poked at her food in wonder. "What is it?"

Fran sighed. "It is Viper meat."

Vaan choked on the bits on their way down his throat. "What?"

"Viper meat," Basch repeated, realizing that the worst reaction had already come from Penelo, who spat her food back out into her leaf before glancing up sheepishly. Ashe had given a disgusted look while Anya set her food down for a moment before the two older adolescents dug into their meals again.

"Tastes like cockatrice. Or Gigantoad legs," Balthier said humorously. Basch noted the mirth rising in the Viera's features, but Fran quickly erased any trace of amusement and shrugged.

"Okay…" Vaan poked at the bits of meat, imagining which part he had received. "So how do you make it look like this?"

Seeing as the older pirates still had some body language to confuse each other with, Basch replied, "We decapitate the Viper at least until the mouth, and put our hands in under the scales to rip it in half. Afterwards there is still a bit of white skin to pull off underneath, so—"

"Not during the meal, please," said Anya, having been on a few hunts but always absent during the skinning and onward, and stared at her leaf, wondering if she could still go on.

"Ah, sorry," Basch said, smiling slightly, and gave Vaan an apologetic shrug.

"I wanted to hear it," Vaan pouted.

"Boys," Penelo sighed, rolling her eyes.

Ashe laughed a little, as did Anya, and the two met light-hearted eyes for a moment before they realized they were laughing with each other and turned away with straight faces.

Penelo glanced between them curiously.

There were less Vipers in the path as they went further into the Ozmone. The Wu numbers were picking up in comparison, though Vaan, Penelo and Anya had so much fun copying the way they flapped around that they almost didn't mind all the fighting. The breeze was nice, too, crisp and refreshing unlike all the hot air surrounding Rabanastre.

It seemed Fran had taken their disgust to heart, too, as later that night she chose to hunt hare for dinner. Basch kept the ears just in case they had some black market value only Anya knew of. When he realized his actions, he wondered when it was he had begun to condone such looting, or justifying that it wasn't looting if the hares never belonged to anybody else.

Dinner was occupied with the sound of eager mastication, especially when the party learned that they were eating hares instead of serpents. It tasted all the same (_wild_) to Basch, who kept his opinion to himself when he saw that the others were too busy devouring their meals to carry a conversation.

"All right," Anya spoke when she was finished. "We have three tents. Room assignments?"

"You bought only three tents?" Balthier frowned.

Vaan blinked. "We have tents?"

"Everyone's setting out these days," Anya replied, "They only had three working tents left."

"Why didn't we use them last night?" Vaan scratched his arm. "The bug bites I got are so itchy!"

"We were all too tired to set them up, and they might have drawn Vipers. But we can use them tonight." Anya turned to Fran. "Assignments?"

"Basch and Vaan," the Viera said, taking a tent and handing it to the older Hume, then gave another to Anya. "You, with Ashe and Penelo."

Balthier looked up from his food, surprised, but said nothing and set up the last tent. Anya whistled appreciatively. He never did _that_.

**XIIXIIXII**

Anya shifted about noisily in her spot, unable to decide on whether to face Penelo or the edge of the tent. Anastacia couldn't stand the fact that she and Ashelia were still ignoring each other, all over something foolish her sister said on an emotional outrage. Ashelia could never know who she was, of course, but she liked being on civil terms with the princess for the sake of the friendship they once shared.

She wanted to apologize. Balthier told her never to apologize sincerely to anyone outside the crew, because he was certain she could never do anything to warrant a genuine _forgive me_, but it was tempting. But did Ashelia even accept apologies? From sky pirates, nonetheless?

Anya could bear it no longer. She sat up and glanced past Penelo, who was trying to sleep despite all the noise Anya's shifting was making to her right and Ashe's sighing created to her left.

"I'm sorry I slapped you."

Penelo opened her eyes, wondering if she should be confused or irritated. "Huh…?"

Ashe was shocked. She had been thinking of a way to befriend her again (or, at the very least, return to their civility), because Anya's conversation was entertaining, in a way, and she didn't like fighting with traveling companions if she could help it. That Anya would make peace with her was completely out of her depth. Turning slightly and attempting to look past the corner of her right eye, as if to make sure she wasn't dreaming, she sat up, too, and faced Anya. An apology…from a sky pirate, nonetheless!

"I'm sorry for slapping you, too." Ashe offered a smile, which Anya mirrored willingly. "I spoke out of turn, and I allowed my…emotions…to affect my judgment. Vossler brought his death upon himself."

"Um…" Penelo didn't usually interfere with other people's business, but when she was right in the middle of everything, it was hard not to. "What…?"

"Oh!" Ashe and Anya sat back, realizing she was awake. "Nothing," said Ashe, holding a hand out as if to stop Penelo from getting up. "Let's return to sleep."

"Actually…" Anya started to scratch the back of her head before stopping herself, realizing it was an infectious habit of Vaan's that had begun to spread. "I was never asleep."

"Neither was I," Penelo and Ashe replied in unison, and the three didn't hold back their laughter.

"So…" Penelo thought back on their conversation. Ashe probably ran out into the hallway after they had slapped each other. That _was_ when they stopped interacting. And all those things Ashe shared with her… "Ashe, can I ask you something personal?"

Anya watched Ashe expectantly, both wondering what it was. "Go ahead," said Ashe.

"Did you love Vossler?"

Ashe and Anya locked gazes. This was one of the primary reasons they had fought; those feelings the princess seemed to have for the knight, strong enough to cause her to wish death on another. Ashe looked away first. "It didn't matter if I did," she replied honestly. "Vossler was in love with Ktjn. Even if…he wouldn't have reciprocated."

Anya stiffened at her answer. Still, Anastacia thought it better than an outright yes, and thought that at least Vossler was gone, now. Perhaps her sister would return to thinking of Rasler again. Vossler was just a distraction, a moment of weakness.

"How about you, Anya?" Penelo turned to her right. It was a personal question she was about to ask, and they weren't exactly close, but maybe this was a chance to become that way. "Did you ever love anyone?"

Ashe watched _her_ expectantly now, trying to imagine how the girl would act with anyone she loved under a different light. She seemed much too preoccupied with her partners and her career for that sort of thing.

"Uh…" It was the first time Penelo had seen her so unsure. It was exciting, though, the thought of a princess and a sky pirate and an orphan girl from Rabanastre sharing their secrets with each other. "Yes. I did. And…" Anya shuddered at the memory. "I was foolish enough to admit it to him."

Even Ashe seemed to lean closer at that. "You didn't."

"I did," Anya sighed, pointedly dramatic. She hadn't spoken to anyone about this…ever. Fran knew of the interests of her heart, but this was different. And Anastacia had never even taken an interest in the opposite sex until a few weeks before she had supposedly died. "You can imagine how awful it was, standing in front of him and trying to find anything else to look at but him while I waited for his response."

Judging by the frustrated way she spoke, Penelo and Ashe knew it hadn't gone well.

"…Was it someone else?" Ashe asked, remembering Ktjn. "Did he love someone else?"

"Worse," Anya replied, the memory of her confession and his rejection suddenly fresh in her mind. She remembered that it hurt…but it didn't hurt as much, now. She just regretted being silly enough to actually have told him. "He just didn't love me. He was very clear about that. Friendship, he said, was as far as we could ever go."

Ashe bit her lip and stared at Anya with pity. That the pirate had drawn enough courage to do what she had never even thought of doing, only to be rejected. She had imagined that sky pirates always got what they wanted. "Was he harsh?"

"No. But I understood him; we were worlds apart, after all."

Penelo shook her head, irritated with a man she didn't even know. She had seen too many of her friends hurt by rejection; that even a sky pirate should face such a thing…it made her lose some hope. "He wasn't a headhunter, was he? Did you fall in love with him while he was trying to kill you, but somehow ended up saving your life from a common enemy? And then you thought you had developed a bond closer than anything the living world was aware of, only to realize only you felt it?"

Ashe and Anya gave her odd looks. "No…" Anya laughed. That would have been bittersweet, at least. Somehow. "He wasn't a headhunter. He is generally peaceful, unless the situation calls for combat. Anyway, even if he had loved me – which he didn't – we couldn't have stayed together. I couldn't be tied down, and he couldn't leave his people."

Penelo gasped. "Was he a prince? A Rozarrian prince you met when Fran and Balthier decided to collect their payment from going to those ruins? Did you grow in friendship – secretly – and go Chocobo riding together in their fields, with you slowly realizing you had feelings for him, only to discover that he only saw you as a best friend?"

Ashe joined in Anya's laughter now. "You have interesting thoughts, Penelo," said the princess, her eyes filled with amusement.

"Well…" Penelo blushed, but giggled along at her own silliness. "I did buy a lot of pocketbooks with the allowance Migelo gave me."

"Speaking of best friends," Anya started, winking at Ashe mischievously, "_Amba_ told me you were sweet enough to make a sandwich for Vaan before we left Bhujerba."

"Really?" Ashe gave a tiny grin. "I had known that you were close, but…"

Penelo's eyes widened. She didn't expect that to be brought up. "Wh-What? Well, I did, but that's only because–and it doesn't actually mean–!"

"Guys," Vaan said, his head popping into the tent all of a sudden. The girls almost screamed. "Can you be more quiet? It's a little hard to concentrate."

"But…our noise should help you stay up for your shift this time, right?" Penelo grinned, relieved at his interruption.

His face was dark against the fire behind him, but she knew Vaan well enough to tell that he was frowning.

"All right, all right," she said, lying down again and shooing him away. "We'll sleep now."

Ashe and Anya exchanged glances before shrugging and following her example. Inwardly, Penelo sighed in relief. Crisis averted.

In another tent, Fran had her back turned to Bathier, who was still decidedly confused about the whole matter. They knew each other well enough to share a comfortable silence; this was anything but that, and now that the others were out of hearing range (that was to say, asleep, or so they thought), he was going to find out.

"What have I done?" he asked, placing a hand on her arm.

Fran, clearly still awake, rolled away from him and got up. She stared at him with a frown. He tried not to get up and kiss her at the sight of her pouting with disheveled hair.

"Well…? You can't stay angry with me forever."

"I could, actually," she said, her voice raspy from fatigue as she crossed her arms.

"Forever is a long time."

Fran glared towards the entrance of the tent, focusing on the fire Vaan had crackling outside.

Balthier rose, sitting eye-level with her. "Fran…"

"There is not a time you were so reckless," she said, closing her eyes in irritation as her magnolia eyebrows furrowed. "Except…the day you stole an airship from Archades and crashed it near Kadalu's tribe. You _say_ you are well despite the possible destination, but you have turned from daring to heedless in a matter of days. I begin to doubt you…"

Balthier held her arm once more. "I'm fine, Fran. You know you don't need to worry about me. I promise, pirate's honor," he said, raising his hand, "I won't do it again. But what's a pirate without a little uncertainty?" He grinned. "Besides, the leading man always comes out on top."

Fran met his eyes with some contempt. "The difference between hardiness and foolhardiness is easily noted with a mere glance at the words."

Balthier sighed. She was serious. "All right, Fran. I'll be more careful." He lay down once more, without waiting for her reaction, and smiled up at her. "Now…don't you think it's cold?"

Fran rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "As Anya would say…you win. But only today."

In the last tent, Basch was worrying about Vaan's sleeping habits and wondered if he should take his shift earlier for the safety of the others.

Outside, Vaan was already dreaming about fruit shakes.

**XIIXIIXII**

The Garif tribe came into Ashe's line of vision some hours before the sun set the next day. She had expected a quaint little village; these people were supposed to hate manufacted things, after all. Although their huts and bridges and clothing were mostly brown, the place was colorful, with flowers varying in appearance as people. At least, that was what it looked like from the outside.

There was a wide stream guarding the entrance to the tribe, and two Garif warriors guarding the bridge crossing it. With Fran and Balthier speaking in hushed tones at the back of the party again, Ashe was left to approach Anya.

"You've dealt with the Garif before, haven't you? What are their customs? Should I perform a bow upon meeting them?"

"No…" Anya found the thought of Ashe bowing to anyone now amusing. "A simple good afternoon will do for the general populace, I think, though I don't generally associate with the elders."

"You are here often, then?"

"We…used to be. Before _Amba_ and _Tatah_ came into the employ of the Emperor of Rozarria. And then we were always busy…"

Ashe quirked an eyebrow at the distant expression on Anya's face, and left her when she realized the girl had already departed from the conversation in a daze. With Penelo dabbling in a conversation between Basch and Vaan, she strode ahead towards the bridge alone, and the guards met her halfway.

"Who are you?" one of them asked, his voice almost as gruff as a Bangaa's. His accent was interesting. "This is Garif Land. No place for Hume-children to play at games."

Ashe frowned. She was no mere Hume-child. "I am—"

"Is there a problem?" said a deeper voice, its owner coming to them from the tribe, but his accent was less obvious than the other's. He turned to Ashe. "What business have you with the Garif?"

"More Humes," the second guard sighed, looking ahead and watching the rest of the party descend from the plains. "These days see many of them wandering through our lands."

"A moment." The Garif who crossed the bridge held a hand up, moving past Ashe and squinting his eyes through the holes in his mask. No one could see it, but he was smiling. "It cannot be…"

Basch, Vaan, and Penelo watched the pirates pick up their pace to meet with the masked, horned figure waving at them from beside an equally astonished Ashe.

Ahead of the party, Anya was the first to meet him. "Supinelu," she said, with a softness Vaan barely recognized. They neared each other awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but pulled each other into a hug as soon as they touched.

Basch shifted uncomfortably.

"Months!" Supinelu said when they released each other. "You have not visited in months."

"We've been rather busy," said Balthier, coming up with a grin. "Supinelu."

"Balthier, Fran," Supinelu said pleasantly, returning their acknowledging nods. "What brings you here, after such a length of time?"

"Serious business," Balthier replied, almost mockingly. He glanced at the guards, with whom he wasn't familiar. "You understand, don't you? We'll need to get inside."

The guards turned to Supinelu. "War-Chief?"

"Let them pass. The responsibility will be mine," the Garif answered their inquisitive gazes, and led the party into the tribe. Smaller Garif ran about that side of the bank, some play fighting and some running about, tagging each other – children, Ashe wondered? She couldn't tell with their masks – while some cared for the Garif's famous cattle, the green-furred, yellow-beaked _Nanna_, who chewed on the grass quietly without turning a head at their arrival.

The Garif were less impassive, and stopped their daily activities to stare at the Humes coming in from the bridge. Some recognized the pirates and yelled out to them joyously, receiving waves from them and awkward glances from their party in return.

"Ah." Supinelu stopped and whirled, eyeing Basch, Vaan, Ashe, and Penelo, who were exchanging clueless glances. "We have not made introductions. I am Supinelu, War-chief of this village. We Garif have been friends to all since long ago. However, lately the Hume world is in much turmoil. We must protect our village, and our people. Balthier, Fran, and Anya…we are old friends. But your intentions remain unknown to us. As War-Chief, and protector of our village, I ask you… Why have you come to this land?"

Always at the head of the group, second only to the pirates now, Ashe spoke. "Fran told us that your culture involves the Dynast-King's gifts from the gods. We were hoping…"

"I see," Supinelu interrupted, knowing too well their purpose. He knew, but he could barely understand why. The hunger for power, he could understand the way not many of his race could, but this young Hume asked for too much of it. "So you too have come to ask about the Nethicite. You must speak with the elders," he said, motioning to the tents occupying the higher hills of the tribe with an outstretched arm. "Though our masks may make it difficult for you to tell us apart, walk through the village and look with your eyes, listen with your ears."

"Thank you, War-Chief," said Ashe, bowing slightly before setting off for the elder's tents. Vaan came along with Penelo, but Basch slowed his pace, glancing back at Anya. Had she been watching him, too, she would have realized that he was waiting for her, but her attention was on Supinelu. When she didn't join his side, he followed the others quickly.

"This bowing," Supinelu started, wearing a disturbed expression under his mask, "such an odd human custom."

"You give yourself such a hard time," Balthier chuckled, walking beside Supinelu. "They are daunted even without your _elderly_ way of speaking, you know."

The Garif shrugged. "I figured it couldn't hurt to prepare for my time as an elder. You understand, don't you?"

The pirate scoffed. "Hardly!"

Fran and Anya laughed. Coming from a profession where manufacted objects sustained them, it had been surprising to find that they had a place with the Garif people, who shared their homes and culture with them openly. It had once been at the cost of information regarding the outside world, but gradually the sky pirates had become, in a way, part of their tribe.

The elders gazed upon them with less interest than the common Garif, keeping to themselves and speaking in low tones. Supinelu moved to the head of the party upon reaching them and approached a certain Garif in particular, whose horns were longer than the rest and whose fur had already grayed. "High-Chief Zayalu," whispered the War-Chief, crouching before him, "These Humes have traveled far to know of the Nethicite."

"As many have before them," replied the High-Chief, sighing, "terribly misled. And our friends, they traveled with them?"

Supinelu glanced back at the pirates. "Yes. They seem to trust them."

"Very well. Let them come." Supinelu left his side and mentioned his name to Ashe as he passed her.

"High-Chief Zayalu," said Ashe, stepping forward and opening her mouth to explain her cause, but the High-Chief spoke first.

"More Humes to visit us," said the High-Chief. "A little bigger this time, but no matter. You need not tell me anything. I know you have come to our village to learn of the Stones, the Nethicite. We Garif have knowledge of this, passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. Some of it remains, some has been lost in history's sands… I – know nothing of the Stones," he said honestly, giving her an apologetic shake of the head. "You must speak to the Great-Chief. He alone holds the deep knowledge of these things. He alone remembers all the tellings. Cross the bridge to the north, and there you will find him. There are watchers at the bridge, so I think it best to speak with War-Chief Supinelu."

"Doesn't anyone know anything here?" Vaan whispered to Penelo. "They're passing us around like hot potatoes."

"Shh, they might hear you!" Penelo scolded him. "And you're making me hungry."

"Uh-huh." Vaan wished she would take this more seriously. "I just hope this Great-Chief guy knows something. I mean, I didn't get all those bug bites for nothing. And – Ashe can't have come all the way here just to be disappointed."

Penelo observed him curiously. "You're worried about Ashe?"

"Yeah," Vaan replied, a little irritated at how she seemed to find it so surprising. "I just realized how much she's lost…just like us. Royalty or not, the Empire's hurt us all. Now she's trying to find a way to stop them, and…I just wanna help her."

"Vaan—"

"Come on," said Anya, grabbing Vaan by the wrist as she followed Ashe back to Supinelu, who was waiting with Fran and Balthier a few ways behind them. Penelo frowned.

"Did you learn what you wished?" asked Supinelu, when they returned.

"The High-Chief said—"

"No, do not tell me." Ashe gritted her teeth inside her mouth. The Garif seemed to have a habit of speaking whenever they wished. "It is written clear upon your face. So, even the High-Chief could not help. Then, you must meet with the Great-Chief."

Ashe nodded, breathing deeply. "I would meet this Great-Chief."

Supinelu nodded. "The Great-Chief may know something that would aid you. Yet, arranging an audience may be difficult…"

Anya took her friend by the arm and pulled him out of earshot. "Can't you make an exception today, Supinelu?"

Supinelu tilted his head at her curiously. Anya caught herself before she stumbled back in surprise. Months ago, such an action would have caused her to melt. Now it was only a passing thing. "Since when has an audience with the Great-Chief meant anything to you?"

"It means nothing to me," she replied. "But Ashe needs as much help as can be offered."

"Well—"

"I must learn more about the Nethicite," said Ashe, squeezing herself in between Anya and Supinelu. If the Garif could interrupt her, surely she could try to get a word in, too? "I cannot turn back now. Please, tell your Great-Chief that I am of the royal line of Dalmasca, a direct descendant of the Dynast-King Raithwall. If the Garif have passed down knowledge of the stones, they must know of the Nethicite that the Dynast-King once held."

Supinelu, entertained instead of irritated, as he outwardly showed, glanced from the pirates to her. "Do you have _proof_ of your heritage?"

Ashe's face fell. "I…I do not."

Anya gave him a meaningful look, though he ignored her. Supinelu half-shrugged. "I have looked into your eyes and seen that you speak the truth, Hume-child. I give you my trust. The Great-Chief is ahead, across the bridge behind you. And—" The seriousness in his voice cracked. "You need not bow."

"Oh. Thank you," said Ashe, feeling only a little foolish, and waited for no one as she made her way to the Great-Chief.

"Happy?" Supinelu said to Anya, whose consequent bow made him laugh. "Now, go. Your friends await."

"As you wish, o great War-Chief," Balthier mocked, sharing a grin with him.

Fran crossed the bridge with Vaan at her side. Basch wasn't far ahead. Vaan looked back to Supinelu and shuddered. "Your friend talks really weirdly."

"Do not mind him." Fran smiled. "The Garif are naturally peaceful, and Supinelu, especially humorous. He is young in years, quite like you, but his position requires that he speak with such authority."

Basch whirled. His tendency to eavesdrop still amused the Viera to an extent. "He is Vaan's age?"

"Perhaps Anya's," Fran replied, watching him for his reaction. "In Garif years, of course."

Vaan ran forward to block her view of Basch. "What do you mean by Garif years?"

"Shh." Penelo shot him a reproving look. Smoke rose from the Great-Chief's hut, filling it with the pricking odor of natural fire. Ashe wrinkled her nose, preferring the sweet scent of magick, but allowed her eyes to glaze over the flames dancing atop the pyre. With the exception of a few more stacks of wood, there was nothing else but the Great-Chief himself, with his old mask and great horns and long, white bead-adorned beard, and the scars across his arms and chest that proved him worthy, once. He stared into the flames as if it would give him all the answers in the world.

Ashe wondered if _this_ was what kept him so busy, but all scathing thoughts dissipated from her mind as the Great-Chief met her eyes. Where she found humor, amusement in Supinelu's, the little she could see of this old Garif's eyes were filled with an ancient sentiment – pride? shame? – that humbled her. Under his gaze she felt as if she knew nothing. Hypnotized, she dropped the Dawn Shard in his outstretched palm.

The Great-Chief gave it a brief glance and said at once, "This Nethicite—you have used it."

"It was not I who used it," said Ashe, defensively. "I'd hoped you could show me how. Thus I've come."

"You do not know the workings of the Stone," said the Great-Chief. Ashe was shocked to hear interest in his voice, and even more at his pause. "Then we are no different."

Ashe reeled. "…What?"

"In ages past, the gods made a gift of Nethicite to my people. But the manner of its use eluded us. Displeased by our failure, the gods took back their stones. They chose instead to give them to a Hume King. Called the Dynast-King, he used the Nethicite's power to bring peace to a troubled time. It is a curious thing. Though the blood of King Raithwall flow through your veins, you cannot wield Nethicite." The Great-Chief sounded almost smug. But there was a sorrow in his voice Ashe could not find contempt for.

"Cannot wield it?" she repeated, coming to a wall in her mind as baffling as the demon wall in Raithwall's Tomb. Only this one had no secret buttons for an easy escape. It was just a dead end. "So then, I am to understand you can't tell me how to use the Stone?"

"Though it shame me so to admit," said the Great-Chief, "here before me stands a descendant of the Dynast-King himself…" His sigh was weary, bearing the burden of shame passed down from generations long past. "I can accord her no help at all. Still, even if you knew how to use the Nethicite, you would find it of small avail."

The Great-Chief dropped the Dawn Shard back in her palms. She could no longer tell if it was heavy or weightless. It had carried her hopes, and now she learned it could do nothing for her now. She wanted to turn around and throw it off the cliff, hearing it ricochet around its edges until it made a thud as it hit the ground, deep into the earth where she would never have to see it again. But she knew she would risk life and limb to take it again and beg it to work for her, to save her country.

"This Stone is devoid of power," the Great-Chief said to her, pulling her out of her nightmare. "Empty, yet full of thirst. A terrible longing to drink the world dry. The power of men – and of magick. Of good, and of evil. It is often those who desire Nethicite whom the Nethicite itself desires."

Ashe stared at him. Her consciousness deep within was trying not to let his meaning reach her, and soon she convinced herself that he was spouting absolute nonsense now. It was no sin to work to ransom her kingdom.

The others watched Ashe and the Great-Chief with sorry expressions. Except Balthier, who looked almost angry with the talk of ancient magick and hungry, greedy stones – and Fran, whose ears twitched. A familiar clicking of Empire-issue heels flooded her hearing, drowning out the flickering of the natural flames.

When he entered the hut, it was Penelo who looked first.

"Larsa?"

**XIIXIIXII**

"The way to Bur-Omisace is riddled with fiends. It will be a perilous journey," said Basch later on. He had taken his place by the stream, where he could think without the deafening silence or the troublesome noise. The rest had joined him, with the exception of Anya, who had chosen Supinelu's company, and Larsa and Ashe, who continued their discussion outside the Great-Chief's hut.

Balthier grunted in agreement. "Burn, first, in the moist heat of the Golmore Jungle, and then freeze to death in the Paramina Rift."

"I knew Ondore was no puppet, but to lead a Resistance…" Basch kept his eyes on the stream, letting his mind flow. "Larsa is right, you know. Another war could only bring Dalmasca to its true ruin."

"Careful, Captain," said Balthier. "Some might say you were sympathizing with an Imperial."

Basch looked almost peeved.

"Uh—" Vaan had never seen him like that before. "I get where Larsa comes from, too. I don't know any Rozarrians, but they've been fighting with Archadians forever and I think they'd take any reason they can get to attack. The only question is: will Larsa's dad listen to her, even with that Gran Kiltias's blessing?"

Penelo observed him, her mouth slightly agape. She really hadn't expected him to think of anything like that. "I'm sure he'll listen to his son."

Balthier snorted. Fran translated: "He will make that decision as the Emperor of Archadia, not as Larsa's father."

Penelo sighed. "True."

The air changed when Ashe and Larsa appeared. The others sat up and acted pleasant, the others put on an indifferent air, but Vaan, true to himself, watched them expectantly.

"I will accompany Larsa to Mount Bur-Omisace," Ashe answered the question in their minds, and glanced at Balthier and Fran, reluctantly, for their approval.

"All right," Balthier shrugged, watching the stream flow out of sight. He wished he knew where it led. "Suppose that gives us—"

"Friends!" a loud voice boomed. Two claws gripped Penelo's and Vaan's shoulders; the two nearly jumped out of their skins. In between them, an old Garif spoke with the cheeriness of a child. "Your huts have been prepared. One for the ladies, one for the gentlemen, and one for the lovely couple in the back!"

Penelo blushed until she realized he had meant the pirates.

"Ah—" Larsa smiled awkwardly. Having grown up surrounded by serious men in long, authoritative robes, he had never met such a cheerful old man. Doctor Cid, perhaps, but he had always put him ill at ease, with him always throwing glances over his shoulder and laughing to himself. "Thank you, sir."

The Garif noted the unsure expressions of the strangers, most especially the children he had his arms around. "Oh, yes! Forgive me. I am Kadalu, former War-Chief. You have met my little brother, Supinelu?"

"Yes," said Ashe, stepping forward as usual. "But I'm afraid we can't stay the night," she said, giving _him an apologetic smile. "We've to meet with the Gran Kiltias at—"_

"No, we _will_ stay the night," Fran interrupted. "The Golmore Jungle is fatal after dusk. It is best to traverse it in the day, and spend the night near the exit to the Paramina Rift."

Balthier watched the contemplation on Ashe's face, from shock to defiance, from irritation to gradual acceptance. "…Very well."

"I did say we ought to leave tomorrow," said Larsa, who received a frown from the princess for his efforts.

"It's for the best," Balthier said to her, grinning as he got to his feet. The others followed. "Kadalu wouldn't have taken no for an answer, in any case."

"This is the truth!" said Kadalu, his voice reverberating in their chests as he laughed heartily. "Now, come! The breeze is much kinder where we've set up your huts."

"Your new friends seem quite important in the Hume world," Supinelu said to Anya. Leaning against the sturdy wooden fence, she was watching the _Nanna_ grazing about with him. They glanced up occasionally, eyeing her appearance suspiciously, but ultimately decided that she was not worth their efforts and peacefully returned to their grass. "It isn't like you to involve yourself in this way. Is there a special reason why you remain with them, despite the danger they pose?

_Amba_ couldn't have told him about her connection with Ashelia, could she? Anya hid her panic with a patronizing smile. "Can't I do something out of the goodness of my heart?"

Supinelu snorted under his mask. "Though you have been away for months, I am of the knowledge that you haven't changed. Is it…" Anastacia prayed to the gods that he didn't know about her. Even in her lovesick daze Anya had never shared that with him. "…that golden-haired one, with the intense eyes? I see the way his gaze lingers on you."

Anastacia hadn't been expecting him to notice that; now she wasn't sure when part of her past she preferred he knew. "O-Of course not!" Anya exclaimed, now clearly flustered. "Sir Basch? He…he looks at everyone that way."

"No, he does not," Supinelu laughed heartily at her redness, wondering why she was even fighting it. "In fact, he's looking this way right now."

Anya felt her eyes pop, her head instinctively swiveling left to prove him wrong (not that she had hoped to). But Basch _was_ looking that way as he walked with Kadalu and the others to the residential area of the village, and the contemplative line that was his lips turned up for a smile as their eyes met. She smiled back before turning to Supinelu with a frown. "You humiliate me, Supinelu. I must have looked like a fool!"

"Nonsense!" Supinelu continued to chuckle. Anya stared at him, pouting firmly, until he straightened his shoulders and stared back at her seriously. "But truthfully now, Anya. Does he make you laugh?"

"Why does that matter?"

Supinelu shrugged. "You once said that the man you would truly love was kind, take care of you, and make you laugh. I have already seen that he is the first. Fran has affirmed the second. And now…"

Anya sighed, covering her face under her arms. "All right. Yes," she drawled out like a child, "he does."

Supinelu nodded. "And do you…?"

Anya fiddled with her clothes. "I … think so. Maybe. He's an extraordinary man, Supinelu."

Beneath his mask, the Garif smiled. Humes tended to focus on romance, if not power; Anya included. He thought of it as a luxury, himself, and had never really found anyone that suited his tastes, but he was happy for her. "I am glad, Anya. He seems almost worthy. Kadalu is testing his mettle now."

"No!"

"No," Supinelu admitted his joke, Anya's horrified expression setting off a cackle that matched his brother's. "A little on the old side, though, isn't he? Much older than Balthier, I can tell."

Anya huffed. "He isn't _that_ old."

"The winds whisper that he is twice your age!"

Anya crossed her arms. "And how would the winds know that?"

Supinelu shrugged, enjoying her irritation, and started for the residential area. "Kadalu."

Speaking of which, Supinelu's older brother had surrendered his leading position to Fran, who was the most 'Garif' out of all the pirates and knew her way around the tribe almost as well as he did. He took his place beside the man who kept his eyes on Balthier's other precious little pirate, having seen the trouble in his eyes but also the hope, and thumped Basch on the back. "You will join the celebration, yes?"

With the exception of Vossler, Balthier and the Viera in general, Basch had never been used to looking up to anyone. This was new to him. "Celebration?"

"Anya did not inform you?" Kadalu shook his head and feigned disappointment. "It is a night of feasting and thanksgiving to the gods, for another yield of good harvest!"

Larsa was curious. "You would allow Humes to witness such an event?"

"It is not a matter of being Hume, or Garif," said Kadalu, straining his long neck to meet the boy's eyes, bursting with promise. "Friends partake in feasts together. We are friends."

"We thank you for granting us such an honor," said Ashe, always the diplomat. The Garif didn't seem bad, considering they had found some sort of family in the pirates. Perhaps there was more to their trio than she thought. "It would be our pleasure to join you."

"Wow. I didn't think you'd be eager for this stuff, Ashe," said Vaan, happily. Ashe frowned at him slightly before remembering that he was Vaan, and that he said whatever came to mind, and that he said everything without the intention of hurting anyone, least of all his friends. They were friends, weren't they? Penelo had said…

"Good, good!" Kadalu said, clapping his hands. "It wouldn't be right not to be in such high spirits for the feast. Now Fran, if you would please escort our guests to Muyela and Bezo…" He glanced over to his brother and his companion, whose footsteps he had easily distinguished behind them. (After all, he hadn't been War-Chief for nothing.) "Anya, a moment?"

Both pirates nodded; after a sweeping greeting for her friends (who felt as if they hadn't seen her in ages), Anya stayed with the Garif brothers while Fran motioned for the Humes to follow her deeper into the tribe.

"What was that about?" Vaan asked, still looking back at Kadalu, who spoke with a hand over Anya's shoulder.

"Remember what I told you?" said Balthier, sighing. "If we aren't involved, it can't be all that important."

"True," said Fran, sagely.

Larsa couldn't tell if they were joking or not. With Balthier's comment alone he might have, but it was rare when Viera were prone to pleasantries. "You are of this belief?"

"I guess it makes sense," Vaan said, having lit up after Fran agreed. "It looks pretty deep, though."

"Kadalu likes to prolong his speeches," said Fran. "It is nothing to trouble one's self over."

"So, why are we going to Muyela and…why are we going there again?" asked Penelo, raising her hand

"For the celebration," Fran explained. "We are to dress as the Garif."

"Oh?" Basch observed the Garif and their many accessories, from the beads hanging from their ears to the trinkets on their necks and bodies. It all seemed very heavy; two years ago, he might have been accustomed to it.

"But…" Larsa followed Basch's gaze. "Their clothes are quite scant, yes?" Most of the men had only trousers, with only neck accessories covering their chests.

"Indeed," said Fran, amusement rising within as she guessed at his train of thought. "Their fur more than compensates for their lack of clothing."

"Ah. I see." Larsa felt naked already. "But—"

"Fret not," said Fran, dismissively. "There will be a towering bonfire. It shan't be cold."

"Aww." Vaan frowned. "I was kinda hoping it would be. It's been so hot these days."

Larsa stared at his new friend's tiny vest with a shocked expression. "That certainly comes as a surprise to me…"

"Don't worry, it does to me, too," Penelo laughed. Vaan rolled his eyes.

"Larsa and Ashe," Fran interrupted as they reached two wide huts surrounded by crates and trinkets of clothing and accessories. "Go ahead."

"What—do we do?"

"Muyela and Bezo will clothe you," Fran said, "the Garif way. I would follow what they say."

Glancing at each other worriedly, the two nodded and went into the separate huts.

Ashe had some brown cloth wrapped around her chest area, baring her stomach (as Ktjn does, she thought grimly), and wore a pair of loose trousers that tightened and ended some inches after the knobs of her knees. She was confident despite this, at first, what with even Fran's trust in this Muyela, but hoped to disappear as soon as the female Garif presented a necklace she thought would fit beautifully on the princess.

"You are royalty in the Hume world, yes?" Muyela said, placing the large piece of jewelry, crafted from beads and shells held together by a thick string, over Ashe. "Surely, among all your companions, you would be the one most accustomed to our highly accessorized garments."

Ashe wished to retort with the fact that only Archadians dressed so gaudily even outside special occasions, but the Garif woman was nearly two heads taller than her, almost as tall as Supinelu. Although her voice was light and sweet, she didn't think contradicting the woman would be very wise. "Very well. I will—_oof_!"

The necklace was heavier than her sword…

"Now, now, stand straight! It's what Bezo and I fancy about your race, you know, that you are not cursed with a natural slouch. Come now…" she coaxed, pulling Ashe's shoulders back. The princess thought back on the time Anastacia would do such a thing, Anastacia who loved the game of following all of the formalities of royalty.

"Do you have a mate?" Muyela asked next, holding an earring next to Ashe's ear and tossing it away in disgusted rejection. She did this a few more times before eventually settling for a jade pair.

"A mate…? No," she answered resolutely. "No mates."

"Tough as the Viera, eh, only when necessary?" Muyela chuckled, thumping Ashe's back and sending the girl stumbling forward by accident. The Garif females hardly knew their own strength compared to the Humes. "I like the way you think, princess. Now, go. You are Garif enough."

"Thank you," said Ashe, and left the hut hoping the necklace would become lighter as time passed.

Larsa came out not at all worse for wear (which was opposite of what he had expected). He had been forced to remove his upper garments and wear only the Garif's traditional brown trousers, as well as bracers on his wrists. He had refused to replace his earrings with dangling ones that would surely drag his earlobes downward, so Bezo settled for a headdress with trinkets that almost hung past his collarbone. He felt ridiculous as he walked out of the tent, but all feelings of contempt left him as he glimpsed Ashe's necklace, looking like it weighed a ton. She carried it well, however.

"The Garif wear flatters you, Ashe," he said, still, having been taught what was on a woman's mind when she had the expression the princess was carrying.

Ashe blushed, not expecting a compliment from the boy she had only hours before still looked upon as an enemy. "Thank you, Larsa."

Larsa bowed slightly and followed Fran's instructions to meet his guards and inform of them of his leave the next day. Vaan went up to Ashe next, grinning. "That outfit looks _really_ good on you, Ashe."

Coming within earshot as she entered Muyela's hut, Penelo turned her head in surprise. She felt her heart wring.

Meanwhile, Ashe shot Vaan a dirty look before walking away.

Vaan was dumbfounded. "How come when I say it—"

"I don't know," Anya laughed, clutching her stomach already, "but it's funny."

Vaan glared at her. "Where did you come from? I mean—what did Kadalu have to tell you?"

"You'll see," she said, grinning to give him some suspense. It seemed to work, as he pouted at her in annoyance.

"Come on, Anya—"

Bezo stuck his head out of his hut and beckoned to Vaan, nearest him, urgently. Anya shrugged. "Your turn." Vaan grumbled incoherently before entering Bezo's hut.

"Hello, Sir Basch," said Anya, deciding to cross her legs beside him when she realized his presence. She felt her breath catch when he laid eyes on her, but knew she had to continue. "How do you find Jahara?"

"Anya," Basch said, nearly jumping back. It seemed so long ago when he had desired to cradle her into himself and done it, but at the sight of her he found he wished to do it again. He restrained himself at the invasive thought of Supinelu, however, and the fact that Fran and Balthier were in the vicinity. "I…have always enjoyed learning cultures. It is an experience."

"I'm glad you like it. Jahara is like a home to me, too. I never realized how much I missed our Garif friends until I saw them again," she shared with him, smiling.

Something bubbled inside Basch at that happiness of hers, telling him to reply with some sarcasm, something to give her a hint that he was affected by Supinelu's constant presence, but he kept his expression pleasant. "That much is certain."

Anya furrowed her eyebrows at the odd inflection in his voice. "What do you—"

Vaan lumbered out of the hut, grumbling to himself still as he fixed the necklace Bezo had slung around his neck. It wasn't heavier than Ashe's, but many of its pieces dangled, pulling him down. He hated the feeling. "I look stupid."

"No," said Anya, rising and pulling him near a torch to see him more clearly. She fixed the placement of the jewelry and pulled his pants down a little. "There. Like a true Garif warrior!"

"Really?"

"I think so. Oh…" Her gaze extended past him, to stunning blonde locks braided and beaded elegantly. "You see, this is why Muyela dresses the ladies. Have you ever seen her so striking?"

Penelo crept out of Muyela's tent, looking as if she hoped no one would catch her. She was unsure of herself, of the slim of her teenage body that were surely nothing compared to Fran's mature curves, but even then she was a sight to behold. Besides the standard wrap around her chest and trousers, she wore flattering dangling earrings the color of the sea, a simple sapphire pendant that Ashe's poor shoulders and back envied, and bangles that jingled merrily as she walked. She wished they wouldn't. Her unusually pale skin, powdered by some substance the Garif lady hadn't cared to describe, glimmered against the torches that lit the tribe in the cold evening.

Vaan felt something pound against his chest. And then someone pushed his jaw up until it finally shut, his teeth clenching with shot nerves.

"It's very rude to stare," said Anya, with a smugness that rivaled Balthier's. "You should go and tell her what you think."

"No way," Vaan scoffed, looking away and finding his fingers restless all of a sudden. "She'll just glare at me, too."

"Suit yourself," Anya shrugged, as it was her turn, but left him with something to think about before leaving. "In case you change your mind, there are other words to flatter a girl with, you know, besides great and amazing. Like radiant." She giggled at herself almost nuttily. "Yes, radiant would sound nice…"

When she finally left, Vaan shook his head as if she belonged to a mental ward and sat beside Basch, quietly staring off into the distance as usual. He used to think the man was a bore, especially because of this habit of his, but all Basch needed was someone to start the conversation. And he wanted to talk right now—lucky him.

"Girls are weird."

Basch blinked, pulling his head back to stare at the boy. "Indeed. But why bring it up?"

Vaan was set on having the conversation carry on as his way, however. "I mean, first you think you're okay, and that you know her already, but then it turns out you don't and you wonder what you have to do to get it back to how you were before. Only you kind of don't want it to be exactly like before, because before is – too late now. But you want it to be better…you know?"

"Mmm," Basch agreed. That was actually rather eloquently put. "I understand you completely."

Vaan sighed. "Right? Plus how was I supposed to know Ashe didn't want to be complimented?"

Basch quirked an eyebrow. "I was under the impression you had meant Penelo."

"Pe-Penelo?" Vaan paled. He'd been trying to think of anyone but her. "Why would I be talking about _her_? It's not like I was looking at her, right? Was I? I mean, because—"

Basch was already ignoring him. Ahead of them was Anya, her bangs no longer auburn but chestnut, beads woven into the loose strands against her ears, hair tied in a neat ponytail that spread out behind her head, like a peacock trying to impress his potential mate. (Fran actually wondered if this were so.) Her colors were orange and red, bright and burning and festive, but her overall costume was less personalized compared to the rest. She wore no accessories except two rings on her right hand, her necklace seemed more a collar with only small beads hanging loose, and around her wrists were two string bracers that criss-crossed against themselves.

Vaan grinned at Basch, feeling triumphant. "It's rude to stare."

The former captain glanced at him in shock, as if he had forgotten about the boy's presence completely. "I wasn't staring. I was just…" His mouth was slightly agape. Vaan wondered if he looked that dazed earlier. "I was simply adm…mmiring."

Vaan sniggered. "Admmmiring, huh?"

Basch straightened and narrowed his eyes at the boy. "I may have preferred it when you were trying to kill me."

Vaan brushed him off with another cackle. "Okay, Mr. Admmmirer."

Basch sat back, reddening only slightly, and recovered swiftly enough to retort, "Penelo is stunning tonight, is she not?"

Vaan choked on his own spit. "What?"

"Nothing," Basch said, rising and making his way towards Bezo's hut, but felt a triumphant grin creep up his spine as he took a last glance at Anya speaking with Penelo and Ashe. He didn't care to wonder when he had become so petty anymore.

Vaan was too flustered to tease him back. He didn't even know Basch was the kind to play dirty like _that_. Cheater. Balthier joined him this time, and Vaan was surprised to see any skin past his neck, much less his stomach. He had expected the pirate to be skinny, what with how loose his sleeves were, but Balthier looked well-exercised despite how lazy he acted. Vaan was already used to him wearing earrings and those colorful bands around his left fingers, and didn't say much upon his arrival.

"Having a good look at the girls, eh?" Balthier smirked. "One guess to which of them you have your eye on."

"N-No! Not Penelo!" Vaan sputtered, and then gasped and tackled Balthier to cover his mouth with a dirty palm.

Balthier fought back in disgust and shoved Vaan away, dusting his back properly as he sat up. "Calm down, Vaan. Had I given a name yet?"

"Oh. Well." Vaan rested his arms on his knees and buried his face in between them shamefully. "Just in case you were wondering."

Balthier chuckled. "Confusing, isn't it?"

Vaan peeked at him with an eye. "You've been through this stuff?"

"Ha! No. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on her."

Vaan groaned. "Then _what are you talking about_?"

Balthier shrugged. "Only trying to help. But it seems…" He patted Vaan on the shoulder and rose, nudging a head towards the Viera coming out of Muyela's tent. Fran could wear little and still appear regal, and this was the case again, with her helmet off and her long magnolia hair flowing endlessly like time. She beckoned to Balthier with a tilt of the head as soon as she caught his gaze. "I have a bit of business to attend to. Basch might have some wisdom to impart with you."

"Yeah, right," Vaan muttered. "He's just as googly-eyed as…that guy by the fountain."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," Vaan replied, grinning conspicuously, but Balthier didn't question him and left to join hands with Fran.

In Bezo's hut, half-naked like the rest of the males but with other pressing issues to bother with, Basch wiggled his fingers before staring back at the Garif. "Rings? Pardon me, but I don't believe…"

"Got a mate, haven't you?"

"What…?"

"We Garif wear our masks throughout our lifetime, and are trained to see through the masks of others by way of their eyes. I have seen in your eyes that you have a mate."

Basch's eyes flickered from accessory to accessory in the Garif's hut. "I have no mate."

"A desire, then," said Bezo. "You desire someone. In my culture, we show our desire by wearing two rings on our fingers. When the woman you desire returns your affections, she will place one of hers on one of yours, and you will do the same for her. When you have consummated your love, you will take her rings and wear them yourself. You see?"

Basch fell silent at his last statement, sending Bezo into a fit of guffaws. "The rings fit you! Basch, was it? Tell me, for which of the Hume ladies do you yearn?"

"Ah…"

"It is all right to be cautious!" Bezo laughed. "You need not tell me, then. But remember: this lady will only know that you are vying for her affections when you take her ring hand with your own and press it to your chest."

"And then…?"

"You wait with bated breath."

Basch sighed. It all seemed so complicated—but it was a different culture, after all. "I'm not certain she even knows how these traditions go."

"In that case, just hold her and kiss her! That is the Hume tradition, is it not?"

Basch turned to Bezo, unsure as to whether he should be amused or horrified at such a notion. "What? No…"

Bezo tilted his head curiously. "Odd. Muyela has been borrowing silly Hume pocketbooks from Anya lately, and she tells me she wishes I were that passionate. Are you telling me…" He tilted his head even further. Basch was frozen. "Oh. _Oh_. It's her, isn't it? You desire—"

"Thank you for your help, Bezo," Basch said with a calm smile, visibly composed and yet barely containing his senses, and dashed out of the hut.

Bezo crossed his arms. "They always run away."

**XIIXIIXII**

The bonfire was hot indeed, blazing and flickering to the skies like a tower reaching for the stars. The Garif sat in a ring around it, slipping their visitors in somewhere close to Kadalu. Behind the northern arc of the circle, their backs to the bright moon, a group of Garif musicians readied their drums and flutes and other Garif-instruments.

Kadalu stood after a few moments of silence, and then made a speech about thanking the gods for another bountiful harvest and for bringing new friends to them to join in their celebration.

"Didn't they say there'd be feasting? Where's the food?" Vaan asked Penelo.

The former War-Chief continued, bringing to mind the time of the two-year drought, when they were forced to rely on hunting and – almost – manufacting for income and survival. Nods of agreement and murmurs of regret stirred from the crowd, but soon quieted down after Kadalu added that the time of drought was over.

"I don't know," Penelo whispered back slowly, trying to hint that he should shut his mouth. "Maybe they're still making it."

It would be a night of joy and thanksgiving, this one, Kadalu said.

"No way. Migelo had the food for the fete night prepared that afternoon, remember? So how—"

"And as always," said Kadalu, his voice growing louder as he winked at Vaan and Penelo, who shrunk back shamefully, "we begin our celebration with a dance!"

The Garif cheered. Beside Anya, Basch leaned in to whisper, "They must not share such a significant part of their culture with outsiders often. This is indeed an honor."

Vaan fumbled to rise, only to get pulled back down by Fran. "Wait," she said, sounding almost embarrassed.

Anya smiled at him in reply. "They—"

"There are those who know our celebratory dance well…some more than others," Kadalu said, sending the Garif into a fit of laughter (Balthier had a message passed around the party that Kadalu was the worst dancer). "We now call upon those graceful enough to lead us."

Anya excused herself and stood in between the bonfire and her companions, forming an inner circle with the other females chosen to lead the dance. Larsa was the first to realize that this was the reason Kadalu had called upon the pirate girl earlier that day, and why her Garif clothing was not as gaudy as theirs.

The drums started. The dancers put out a leg and bowed.

Basch stared at Anya's figure, dark against the bonfire, and tried to remember when she had become a woman.

The flautists began their harmony, and so did the dancers. They were on their toes, spinning, jumping – _dancing_ – in perfect unison, like puppets on an invisible string. The audience found itself hypnotized, and it took a few members some seconds to realize that when the music changed, and there were violins now – no, Ashe realized, not violins, but the instruments the Garif carried sounded exactly like them – that the dancers had offered their hands to them.

Anya had a hand outstretched to Balthier in particular. They smirked at each other as Balthier took her arm and she pulled him up, joining hands with him as they twirled and danced and leapt together with the rest of the new couples. The party watched Fran for her reaction, but she only gave a rare smile as she watched them.

"You make for a wonderful dancer, _Tatah_," said Anya as he carried her and set her down as they twirled, "I still don't know why you prefer shooting practice."

Balthier had seen this coming. "Leading men are naturally amazing dancers more often than not, you see, and I prefer to practice my trade rather than something only used at silly formalities. Or rare celebrations such as this."

"Well, well, to each his own."

Balthier quirked an eyebrow. "I was expecting a little challenge. Passivity can't do in shooting practice, you know. Which reminds me, we should start again when Nono fixes the—"

"Goodbye, _Tatah_," Anya laughed as the music changed again, and they released each other's hands. She moved on to pick up Vaan, who gleefully tried to learn the movements as fast as he could.

Balthier spun upon being released, as was the step, and held a hand out to Fran. "Do me the honor?"

Fran nodded and stood, her eyes a little lower than his now that she had removed her heels. She always liked looking up to him like this.

"You seem happy," said her partner as they intertwined hands.

"I am," she said, still smiling. "We have not all spoken for a time. Just now I felt as if…as if we…"

"Were a complete cast reunited after long years of being apart?" Balthier finished, returning her glow uncharacteristically.

Fran nodded. Nobody knew her like Balthier did.

"All right. Well done, Vaan," said Anya, who was having a terrible time trying to teach him how to dance, though she appreciated his efforts. "When the music changes again, we release each other's hands and move on to new partners."

"What? Who do we go to?"

"I'll take Larsa," she said, catching the boy practice the smaller steps while seated, "and you'll take Penelo. Dance with her as you danced with me—well, actually, the steps might be a bit different, but no one's checking."

Vaan's eyes widened. He liked dancing, but right now…with her… "Y-You can't. You still have to teach me more steps!"

"I think you'll do fine, Vaan," said Anya, grinning. "Penelo said she liked dancing, didn't she? I'm sure she's picked up the steps already."

"Anya—"

"Goodbye, Vaan, and look her in the eye!" Anya laughed, prying his fingers off hers as the music took a livelier rhythm. She moved on to Larsa, who eagerly joined the dance, having already picked up all the steps. He certainly didn't embarrass her as a dance partner.

Vaan pulled Penelo up, almost afraid to look at her, but remembered Anya's words and gave Penelo a small smile. She danced almost expertly, he realized, and allowed her to lead with the steps she had already learned. Penelo was just as nerve wrecked as he was, counting to herself and trying not to forget the steps. Vaan barely caught a glimpse of it, but he did. It was so…so…(_adorable_), said his mind, though it was ultimately refused by the boy. Instead his mouth began to move on its own.

"Penelo, you're…you're…you're radiant."

Penelo stumbled and crashed into his chest. "Wh-What?"

"I – uh. You know." Vaan stopped to scratch the back of his head, but grabbed her hand again when they were almost run over by another couple. "You heard me. I just thought—I didn't get to say it a while ago because Bezo was already—"

"Thanks," Penelo said, understanding him fully. "Thanks, Vaan. You look great too."

"O-Okay. We should dance now."

"Right," she said, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks, but felt all the more confident and led the dance almost flawlessly.

"You're not half bad," said Anya, carrying Larsa as they twirled around and setting him down as they finished. "For an Imperial."

Larsa laughed at their role reversal, and knew to take her words lightly. "And you're not half bad for a pirate."

Anya smirked. "I pride myself on it. Oh, when the music changes, we release each other and move on to new partners, understand?"

"Why didn't some couples release each other after you took me?"

"Observant, too," Anya patronized, but she answered his question. "Only leaders shift partners and take more to participate in the dancing. The rest choose a partner to dance with for the rest of the night."

"I see. I suppose that leaves me…" He glanced around for Penelo and found her already with Vaan. He felt a little disappointed, but he shrugged it off and said, "The Lady Ashe."

"She's not a bad dancer."

"How would you know?"

"Goodbye, Larsa," Anya said, smiling triumphantly, and released him. The music shifted again, back to its first simple rhythm, and Anastacia found herself holding a hand out to Basch. When she was younger, she had daydreamed about him doing it for her. Well, she supposed, liars couldn't be choosers.

Basch shook his head at her. "I can't dance, Anya. I've never been very skillful."

"You've probably never tried," she said, smiling, and dragged him up with force she never knew she had. Basch was shocked at first, but soon settled for a kind expression. "Now, dance with me."

"If you insist," he whispered, and that was enough for her to pull him into the fray. He wasn't hopeless like Vaan, but he wasn't a prodigy like Larsa, and that suited Anya just fine. Basch wondered if this was the time to take her hand to his chest—wait, he thought, why had he even considered it?—but was distracted by Anya's voice.

"You pick up steps easily," she said, overjoyed that he hadn't stepped on her feet once, the complete opposite of what Vaan had done to her poor toes. "You cannot say you cannot dance. Now, after you pick me up and set me down, release me and we shall find new partners."

Basch made no reply and obediently carried her by the waist, setting her down right before the music changed, but he didn't let go.

"Sir Basch…?" Anya knew easily that she didn't mind the warmth surrounding her waist, but for the sake of pretense to those around them she had to ask. "We are to change partners?"

Basch released her waist, at least, and took her by the hands again, but he wouldn't change partners. Instead, he looked down at her fondly. "I'm…afraid it is only with you that I feel comfortable making a complete fool of myself."

Anya laughed, hoping she was so loud that he wouldn't be able to feel her heart against his hands. "Never once did I dream of being asked to dance by the famous Captain Basch."

"And yet here I am, humble before you," he said, squeezing her hands pleadingly.

"All right," she conceded, as if it had been the hardest decision to make, but she could have answered it in less than a heartbeat if Balthier and Fran hadn't just spun past them. "I'll stay with you."

"Thank you, Anya," he said, stopping to give her a smile that made her want to fall back and swoon. It was all she could do not to, and in her concentration they had stopped dancing, moving on to staring intensely at each other instead.

When she returned to her senses, she realized her foolishness and said suddenly, "I like your company."

"…And I, yours," he said automatically, gazing upon her. She looked so different with brown hair, so tame and meek, but he knew she was nothing of the sort and was shocked to find that he was glad of it. "You are not what I expected."

Anya looked amused. "What did you expect?"

"Not you," he replied almost shamefully. "I never thought pirates cared for a thing besides gil. I never knew how wrong I was."

"It's all right," she laughed his shame away. "When I caught a glimpse of you years ago, I thought you were boring."

"Boring?"

"Painstakingly so," she nodded. "I never knew how wrong I was."

Basch laughed, before quieting down and taking on a serious expression. "And how do you see me now?"

There was an easy answer to that. "A man I—that is—a man that—"

"May I?" cut in a familiar voice just as the music changed. Supinelu.

Basch released Anya reluctantly upon Supinelu's insistent hand. Unbeknownst to them, Balthier had sent the poor Garif, who had been enjoying playing his flute with the musicians, to interrupt that eerie moment in which he had caught them.

"Okay," said Anya halfheartedly, looking to Basch pleadingly, but he had already left her side. She sighed and looked down at the two rings on her hand.

"Not to worry," said Supinelu, taking her hands. "Tonight you will sleep well."

"What do you mean?" Anya frowned. "You know you interrupted my dance with him."

"It was not a dance but a staring contest," said Supinelu, "a staring contest Balthier saw, mind you. Now is not the time for such a moment. Tonight will be better."

"It _is_ tonight," Anya groaned. "Supinelu, I don't think I could ever look him in the eye again."

"You managed to with me, didn't you?"

Anya huffed like a child. "After a lifetime of embarrassment."

Supinelu sighed. She was his closest Hume friend and he loved her, but she was much too stubborn. "Just trust me."

**XIIXIIXII**

"Giddy schoolgirl."

Having been combing her hair and humming to herself, Penelo turned from her seat on the dresser and glanced at Ashe quizzically. "What?"

Ashe lay down on her mat between Penelo's and Anya's. The Garif had been generous with their huts, even providing them with a mirror and some clothes. The pastural odor smothering the tribe was beginning to grow on her. She inhaled it from her pillow with a slight smile.

"You've been smiling from ear-to-ear since the celebration. Like a giddy schoolgirl."

"H-Huh?" Penelo dropped her brush. "I-I've never been to formal school."

"Neither have I," Ashe shrugged, but she knew that twinkle in Penelo's eyes. The girl was glowing. "But  
you understand. And so do I. Even if Vaan was an awful dancer."

"He wasn't that bad!" Penelo shrunk at Ashe's eyebrow. "Okay, he was the worst dancer in the tribe. But he did try."

"I noted that, too," said Ashe, nodding. "It's what matters, I suppose. Rasler wasn't a very good dancer, either."

It was always so awkward when she brought up dead people like that. But, Penelo thought, maybe she was supposed to be glad the princess was opening up. "How did you know? When you loved Prince Rasler, I mean. Or…was it love at first sight?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Ashe laughed, remembering the tricks he and her sister would play on her as a child. "Whenever our fathers brought us along to meet, we'd kick each other under the table. And it wasn't a playful sort of kick. He had a scar to prove that."

Penelo gasped. "Was it that bad? Or…oh, but opposites attract, right? You ended up falling in love with the part of him you hated?"

"No…" Ashe was still amazed at the girl's imagination. At that age, she was already preparing for her wedding. She didn't have time to daydream about different ways to fall in love; she simply did. "He changed. As we grew, I believe he realized that it was our duty to be friends, at the very least. Each time we met he tried more and more to get along and less to anger me. And then it came to me that…he was actually quite charming."

Penelo giggled insanely. "Oh, that sounds so sweet!"

Ashe smiled slightly. "He was. I realized I loved him when everyone at the castle began to call me a giddy schoolgirl."

Penelo faltered. "H-Huh? So when you called me…I-I'm not in love!"

Ashe tapped her chin, pretending to consider it. "Maybe not now. But you like Vaan, don't you? It was especially easy to tell during the celebration."

"Nooooo…" Penelo covered her face, completely burning up. "Do you know how hard it's going to be to face him after admitting that I like him? Even if it's just to you?"

"Oh, yes," Ashe chuckled. "Rasler was especially insistent about it. Every day after my fifteenth birthday, he would ask me if I loved him already… He would send Anastacia if he was too tired after his training to do so."

"You don't think Vaan would...!"

"I don't see Vaan as the type," said Ashe, recalling all her previous conversations with the boy. It was hard to believe they had only met some weeks ago. She felt like she knew them…forever. It scared her a little. "Anya mentioned that he sputters at the slightest suggestion of romance. But…" Ashe grimaced at the sight of Penelo's hurt expression. "Don't worry about it. All he needs is some time to mature."

Penelo crawled over to her mat and fell back against her pillow, heaving a hopeless sigh and gracelessly allowing her hair to cover her face. "I'm in love with a boy who's afraid of romance. Great."

Ashe felt the giddiness bubbling up in her, too. It was such an ancient feeling, camaraderie, this girlishness, so long ago, but she was so happy she wanted to cry. She contained herself and grinned at Penelo instead. "Then you are in love?"

Penelo gasped. "No! I didn't—it's because you said—"

She stopped at the sound of footsteps outside. It was Basch, pacing, trying to determine in himself if he would ask to speak with Anya. This place had the right atmosphere, after all—that laid back air they would never encounter again—and he really just wanted it out of his system, off his chest. If she rejected him, then…then he would keep on living, as he had before. But if she accepted him…

"Excuse me," said Basch loudly, his heart pounding at the thought. "May I?"

Ashe and Penelo raised eyebrows at each other before the former answered, "All right."

Basch didn't so much enter their hut as peek his head inside. He'd figured he liked his hands wringing the hut flaps instead of each other as he prepared himself for the task at hand. When he saw no pirate, he uncharacteristically gnawed at his lower lip. "Anya is not here?"

Ashe shook her head. "Nono's sister, Gurdy, arrived some minutes after dinner with her Chocobos. Anya is with her now."

Penelo was still too flustered to make sense, but she tried to. She blew the hair from her face. "Why?"

Basch was silent, staring at the mirror at the far corner of the hut, before he replied. "She…dropped an earring after dinner. I wanted to return it to her."

In a better state of mind now, Penelo recalled Anya's Garif garments and shook her head. "She wasn't wearing any earrings. Those were beads on her new wig."

"Oh." Basch realized he should have prepared an excuse in case of this earlier. "Well, I suppose I'll return it to Muyela just in case. Good evening, ladies."

"Good night," they said, and Basch's head disappeared from the tent. Penelo wrinkled her nose, thoughts of Vaan's immaturity and Basch's odd search swirling in her mind.

"You don't think Basch and Anya…"

"No," said Ashe, frowning. Not with Anastacia's death so recent... She wouldn't let him replace her sister's memory as she had so brazenly attempted to replace Rasler's. "Certainly not."

Penelo shrugged. "They've just been talking a lot, is all. Anyway, I'm _not_ in love."

Ashe rolled her eyes with a smirk, pushing the thought of memories out of her mind, and chose to feel like a child again, like the teenager she'd had little time to be. "Whatever you say, Penelo."

**XIIXIIXII**

Anya sat along the cliffs rearing Jahara, propping herself up on her arms and swinging her legs as she stared up at the moon. She was thinking. It was never something she used to do; she just used to dance, and dance, and play the piano sometimes, when she was bored with the rough talk in Balfonheim. But she'd been thinking a lot lately, thanks to Basch fon Ronsenburg.

He was so…so…perfect.

Maybe not. He was too passive, with all that silly talk of fates. It was like surrendering to the greatest opponents in the biggest game of all. Balthier always said everyone made their own destiny; how else could Judges become pirates and princesses become cutpurses? But he did take a stand, once, when he protected her from Vossler on the Shiva.

Why had she been so uncaring of him before? He was intelligent, kind, his conversation engaging, and he was so handsome. Why hadn't he danced with her on her sixteenth birthday instead of Vossler? She could barely even remember seeing him in the party or at her brother's wedding. Yet he'd said he was a Dalmascan knight even before talks of the Dalmasca-Nabradia union began.

Wait, wait. Anya corrected herself in her mind. Why hadn't he danced with _Anastacia_ on the princess's sixteenth birthday instead of Vossler?

"Anya?"

Anya jumped out of her skin, but dove back into it quickly when the voice registered. "Sir Basch?"

Basch smiled down at her, his feet painful with the tingling. He hoped she couldn't hear his heart beating this close. "May I?"

"Of course," she said, scooting to the left and patting the empty space on her right. There was actually a wide, empty space around her, but he sat on the ground she'd touched.

The bands around two of his left fingers stung his skin, but he couldn't yet meet her eyes. Instead he focused on the moon, the only other being who could see them together tonight. (He was wrong, of course, but he would never know.) "What are you thinking of back here? Supinelu asked me to help look for you. It is already a little past midnight."

Anya was taking furtive glances at him, taking in as much of his face as she could with each look. He wouldn't look back, so she assumed he was totally focused on the sky. "I was thinking of practicing—of dancing, I mean. But Supinelu knows of my midnight practices and was bound to catch me if I tried, and I don't want to risk his nagging." She laughed a little. "So I decided I would sit here and watch the stars. Don't tell him where I am."

Basch inhaled deeply, and suddenly a boldness possessed him to face her. She sat back, having been staring at him, but found she couldn't look away. Under the cloudless night sky, his steel blue eyes mesmerized her. He reached out and cupped her face, smoothing the dark rings under her eyes with a thumb. Her unflinching yet soft gaze baring into his own gave him confidence. "You need your rest. Tomorrow's journey will be taxing."

"I'm accustomed to being awake at this hour," she replied, instinctively leaning into his touch. She gripped the cliffside with her hands, trying to stop their shaking. As Basch allowed the silence to pass, Anya thought her heart was about to come out of her mouth.

"Supinelu seems to know you well," Basch said, when the Garif's mask popped into his mind, and regretted it as soon as he did. He faltered, releasing her face. Her cheek felt naked. He stumbled after his next words, berating himself inwardly. So thoughtless, so reckless. "Were you…Did you ever…"

Anya blinked, realizing his question, and for once thought it best to be honest. Did he think that she and Supinelu were…? He couldn't. "I thought I loved him," she admitted, going against all of Balthier's instructions and telling him the truth. But she could trust Basch. She trusted him with her life, as Rasler had his. "And maybe I did. But there was no point to it. He needed to stay in the tribe and I needed to be up and about in the air, and anyway, he only ever considered me a close friend."

Basch glanced away. It was so much more painful than a simple yes, knowing she had allowed herself to hurt because of a man who didn't love her. Had they met years ago… No. She was too young, all those years ago. She was still just a girl then.

"Why do you ask…?"

"I was only curious," said Basch, forcing a smile.

Anya sighed and berated herself inwardly. So foolish, so brazen. Did he think she was an idiot, now, for having fallen in love with a man not even of her own race? If she couldn't have him…she at least wanted to be his friend, to be in his presence and to see that smile of his. And then it was all a matter of making herself believe she was happy.

"You know…I never received those sword lessons you promised."

Basch blinked. "Well…" He looked around, groping the ground for his blade, "Would you like to have them now…?"

Anya had an amused grin when he glanced back up. He replied with a furrow of his eyebrows. She snorted childishly, but it made his head spin. "'Twas a mere quip," she said, as always. "I was going to be terrible at swordfighting, anyway. The fates will that I not be given sword lessons."

Basch gave it some thought, and then chuckled. "You mock me."

Anya could control it no longer and burst into giggles. It elated her so – being in his presence now, sharing such laughter with him. "No! No. How could I mock the most extraordinary man I've ever met?"

Basch froze.

Anya froze moments after.

"By Faram…" She covered her face in her hands, wishing to just explode on the spot. "You see, this is why sky pirates lie – we look like complete fools when we tell the truth."

"No…" he said softly, prying her hands from her face and tilting her up by the chin. Her curled form reminded him of nights before, when she fell asleep in his arms. "No. You're intelligent—and beautiful," he finished, his breathing ragged. "You are… Anya, if you could only see what…I…"

He trailed off, realizing how close their faces were. He closed the gap, all the while telling himself it was wrong – he was twice her age, Balthier and Fran had become allies, friends, almost, and she was too good for him – but she was so broken and hopeful and beautiful that every moment he continued to spend keeping it all bottled inside him would only eat him alive and he couldn't stop now.

Only he did, right before his lips touched hers, because they weren't his to take. It was her choice. It had always been her choice, unbeknownst to them – even before he was a traitor and she was a pirate – no matter how willing he was, there would be nothing without her.

She chose him.

Their first kiss was sweet, chaste, her lips firmly pressed against his, and it seemed ages before they pulled apart again.

Her eyes were filled with a new hope when she opened them.

His widened when he realized what had occurred, and what he wished to occur again. His throat was dry. "I…I…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. It was not my place—"

"You…regret it?"

"No!" Basch said so vehemently that even he was surprised by his tone. When he recovered, catching his breath, he spoke. "I…am years and years past you. You deserve a sprightlier man, one who can—"

Anya kissed him again.

She touched her lips when she pulled away, as if shocked at her own actions, but the tiny smile on her lips betrayed her enjoyment. "No," she said, and that was that for her. "It doesn't matter to me…and it shouldn't matter to you."

"I believe it will matter to your _Tatah_ and _Amba_."

"I am a sky pirate," Anastacia announced, always the bold one. She couldn't worry about Balthier and Fran now. Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg had kissed her. He'd kissed _her_! "They should already know that I am a renegade."

A wide smile spread across Basch's face. He shivered under the fondness of her gaze, overwhelmed by the realization that she returned everything he felt so fully. He wanted to kiss her again, and he was about to, hardly one to think of his actions around her anymore, but recalled Bezo's instructions. Taking her ringed right hand with his own, he pressed it to his chest.

Anya wondered what he was up to until she saw the bands around two of his fingers, and then she wondered if she was dreaming. But she wasn't, not with the warmth of his hand on hers. She'd insisted to Balthier that it was only a joke, wearing the rings, because it was clear no Garif would ask her to be his mate, but in secret she'd been hoping…and now he'd done it. He felt for her the way she felt for him. Tears welled up in Anya's eyes. Her jaw shook as she struggled to say something.

She said nothing, instead crying out joyfully and grabbing her hand back. Taking her orange ring, she slipped it onto Basch's ring finger. It slid down on top of his green band. In return, he placed his yellow band on her red ring. And then, without warning, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"When I lost my home, Landis, to the war, I never hoped to be happy again," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead, "Until this moment."

Anya stiffened in surprise, but soon relaxed into the embrace and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I love you, Basch fon Ronsenburg."

Basch swelled with happiness. "And I love you."

She closed her eyes. Anya…Anastacia…had never felt so at peace. If he and she were not perfect on their own, then this was. She was so happy her heart could burst.

"But…"

Basch leaned his forehead against hers, stroking a hand against her arm. "But…?"

"Maybe we shouldn't tell _Amba_ and _Tatah_ first."

Basch could only chuckle. "…I know."

Not far away, his shadow lengthened by a blazing torch, Supinelu smiled.

**XIIXIIXII**

The next morning, Vaan regretted staying up late discussing the semantics of adolescent body language with Larsa. He was exhausted, his body ached, and how in the world could Basch wake him up before dawn with such a pleasant smile when the man had gone out for a stroll and hadn't come back until before he and Larsa slept? Well, the cold stream water woke him up, at least, though he shivered so much that Supinelu took pity on him and gave him a clean blanket to walk around with while the sun stretched over the horizon.

The rest were still getting ready—Supinelu was talking with Basch, Balthier and Fran were missing, and Larsa and the girls were doing most of the packing. Except Ashe, whom he found wandering around by the bridge exiting the tribe. All traces of the festive spirit in her last night was gone; her face was covered with her worries again: of Archadia, the Dawn Shard, Dalmasca…

As Vaan approached her, she turned in his direction, her mouth open and her eyes glazing over. She snapped out of it when he waved a hand in her face. The events in the heart of Raithwall's tomb resurfaced in his thoughts, and he frowned. He had only seen a glimmer this time.

"You saw him again, didn't you?" he asked. "Like at the King's tomb."

Ashe stood back. "So you did see him." They'd locked eyes that day, though they hadn't spoken of it until now. "But why?"

"It's strange…" Vaan watched the stream flow, like many others before him. It would never stop. "Before, I didn't even know what you looked like. And the prince—and his sister?—I barely even knew they existed." He sighed at Ashe's distant look before shrugging. "Who knows? Maybe the person I saw was my brother."

_Reks_, a girl's voice echoed in Ashe's mind. "Penelo told me about him."

"He enlisted, right at the end. But for what? He knew we couldn't win."

Ashe clutched the stone in her fist again. Did he feel this way about her battle, too? "To protect something," she replied, still.

"How can he protect anything when he's dead?" Vaan rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "Was it difference for Prince Rasler? Did that make sense?"

Ashe didn't respond. She couldn't.

"Hating the Empire, getting revenge – it's all I ever thought about. But I never did anything about it. I mean, I realized there was nothing I could do. It…" Vaan's nostrils flared, his head feeling numb. "It made me feel hollow. Alone. And then I'd miss my brother. I'd say stuff like _I'm gonna be a sky pirate_ or…or some other stupid thing. Just anything to keep my mind off it, you know? I was just—I know that now—I was running away. I needed to get away from his death. That's why I followed you."

He glanced at her, her eyes closed, before he continued. On another day he might have laughed it off and ask if she'd fallen asleep on him, but he was thinking clearly today. That didn't happen a lot. "Know what? I'm through running. I'm ready to find my purpose. To find some real answers—some reasons. If I stick with you, I think I will."

Ashe finally met his gaze, and for the first time since Rasler's death, allowed someone to see her weak, uncertain. She'd never imagined that it would be Vaan. "I wish I knew."

That he was confident in her when she no longer knew what she was doing…it inspired her, a little. Vaan saw that, and his confidence grew in turn. He smiled. "I'll find 'em."

**XIIXIIXII**

Larsa couldn't breathe.

The prince of Archadia was trapped under piles of soft material that smelled like the earth and fur that tickled his face. He contemplated on whether to call out for help and be caught in such an embarrassing predicament (though nothing could be more humiliating than hiding in a sack wearing Vaan's clothes) or to just lie there and wait for someone to wonder where Larsa was and find that he had already fallen asleep under an uncomfortable heap of clothing.

He laughed at the thought, inhaled the homogenous scent of age and Garif and earth, and involuntarily burst into a fit of coughs.

Warm fingers wrapped around his ankles and pulled him out from under the pile. He squinted his eyes at the sudden pouring in of light, though little it was compared to the sunlight after dawn, and barely made out the figure of Anya in her new wig.

The pirate closed the flaps to the hut so the prince could see her face clearly. A smirk. "Only royalty would be so delicate as to be totally incapable of squirming their way out of a pile of tents and jackets."

"Thank you," Larsa said first, to get gratitude out of the way, and sat up with some effort. "I did try. And I was given to understand that Ashe slept in a tent for two nights consecutively."

"Ashe isn't royalty," said Anya. "She was abruptly deposed, if I recall correctly. Your father and brother ensured that."

Larsa frowned. He wasn't blind to his family's past actions; that was exactly why he was here.

Anya shrugged after some thought. Anastacia wanted to take it all out on him, now that the celebration was over—it was his blood that wiped out her entire kingdom, her entire family, after all. But he was a child; he didn't know any better. It wasn't his fault the most important men in his life were both murderers; Basch's brother was one, too, but that didn't make him evil. "Don't worry about it. It took me ages to learn how to sort laundry from underneath it all, too."

Larsa blinked. "What?"

"Anya, you found Larsa!" Penelo exclaimed, walking into the hut. "We've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?"

"Uh—"

"Help me," Anya called, crouched before the tents and the jackets. A gift of Kadalu's covered in _Nanna_ fur for their trip across the Paramina Rift, the jackets were to be folded and packed. She was fixing the tents, one of which Larsa had inadvertently set open, and tossed the clothes to the other two.

Penelo caught three. (The rest fell on Larsa.) "These go inside that wolf skin pack, right?"

"Right. Larsa should be familiar with it; he spent five intimate minutes with it in Bhujerba."

Larsa sensed the humor in her voice and knew at once that she was her playful self again. "Indeed," he said, grinning slightly. "I'd leave it for a _Nanna_ pack any day, however."

Penelo giggled. "I still haven't heard that whole story. You hit that nasty Ba'Gamnan with the nethicite so you could get away, right? To think that you already knew Vaan when we met…"

"Actually, it was _Lamont_ who knew Vaan," Anya corrected, looking up from her tent folding. "We met Larsa on the Leviathan."

If Larsa hadn't been holding the wolf skin pack for Penelo, he would have crossed his arms. "You weren't very open with your names, either, until Vaan slipped with Basch's…"

"Vaan did what?"

"Mentioned Basch's name even after _Tatah_ told him not to," Anya answered, rolling her eyes, but remembered Vaan's conversation with her and kept to herself again.

Penelo didn't seem to notice that the pirate had retracted her ire and laughed. "Oh, I'm not surprised anymore. Vaan's always been like—"

Basch stepped into the hut with a hand outstretched. "Anya, Supinelu wishes to speak with you." He seemed to barely notice the others, until he saw something move from the corner of his eye and realized it was Penelo's mouth closing. "Oh, I apologize. Did I interrupt you, Penelo?"

"No, it's okay," Penelo said, staring at Basch's hand oddly.

Anya took it, beaming so brightly Larsa had thought for a moment that she was a completely different person, and allowed Basch to pull her to her feet and out of the hut. They ran to Supinelu's hut with the giddiness of a young couple, with Basch looking back at her and Anya smiling up at him, seemingly carefree, but only because the latter knew Fran and Balthier were still in their hut.

"What is it, Supinelu?" asked Anya when they were inside, catching her breath with a slight laugh. Her cheeks were rosier than the Garif could ever remember.

"Firstly," said the Garif, hiding the entertainment he found in their childlike gaiety, "I would advise that you remove your rings. Unless you plan on revealing your little liason…"

Basch and Anya released each other immediately and removed their rings; Basch kept the four in his pocket. Anya said, "I wish you wouldn't put it that way."

Supinelu laughed. "I jest. You know that. Basch, may I?"

Basch nodded, having already spoken to him earlier, and gladly exited. Although Anya may have loved him before, he trusted her and the Garif. No doubt he would congratulate her as he had him, and perhaps advise her on how to break the news to her 'parents'. To be honest, Basch didn't find the prospect too exciting, though he knew they would have to confess sooner or later.

* * *

I know, I know, the ending was totally anti-climactic, but it was getting too long and I needed to cut it off. XD Plus school (I live in the Phils.) is starting for me soon and I want to get a chapter out before things start getting hectic. I really hope you liked this chapter!

**Nameless-Sinner: Haha sorry you didn't get to bed as early as you could XD I do that too when I'm writing this hahaha! For some reason, the ideas only come to me starting from 10 in the evening and onward! Yeah, Anya's starting to lose it :))**

**Tamuril Telrunye: I'm honored! XD Thanks!**

**Bitter Fish: Wowwwww thanks! Here's the update :D I'm soooo happy you like how it's written, that's the thing I'm worried about the most XD**

**Thanks so much for reviewing everyone!****You guys get me through writing these :)**

REVIEW!

see you next time! ;D


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary: Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget.**

Heyyyyyyyyyyy! I actually finished this part a long time ago, but I wanted to finish the part until the party reaches Mt. Bur-Omisace till I posted this. I'm sorry it took forever! But here it is :) I've got the next chapter about Bur-Omisace just waiting to be edited (for finality's sake) and posted soon! :)

So now that Basch and Anya have established their relationship between themselves, it's time to see how it holds up. After all, a couple before and after they start being together is always different. By the way, I hope you listened to _The Hills of Ireland_ while reading the part about the Garif dance! I really really love that instrumental. :) Also! Two chapters before this one I think, Anya guiltily dreamt of Rasler - I listened to _Who Knew_ by Pink the whole time while typing up that chapter. It was really helpful. :))

That's all for now. Today the party goes to the Golmore Jungle, the claustrophobic Henne Mines and back. ENJOY!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

His back turned, Balthier was on the ground some feet away from Basch, who instantly panicked and tried to remember which path they had taken to reach Supinelu's hut. He sighed in relief when he realized there was no way the younger man could have seen them. He hadn't been there when they arrived. Just to be sure, he approached him quietly.

"Hello, Captain," said Balthier before Basch could even greet him. "Ready to go?"

Basch pretended not to be surprised and glanced over the pirate's shoulder. Balthier was cleaning his rifle and wiping the bullets one by one before loading them. It was new ammunition; most likely brought in by Nono's sister. "Your previous bullets would have worked as well," he pointed out. "Holy Mount Bur-Omisace stands at the northern end of Jagd Ramooda. Once we're in Jagd, we need not fear pursuit by their airships."

"Don't get your hopes up," Balthier scoffed. "You remember the Leviathan sailed straight over the Jagd Yensa, right up to Raithwall's tomb. Skystone that works even in Jagd – you know Nethicite's behind it." His brows scrunched together; he was more distressed than Basch had ever seen him. "Little wonder they're so keen on the stuff…"

Basch lifted an eyebrow curiously, forgetting for a moment that he would like to have the man's approval of his bond with Anya. "And what is it you're after, Balthier? You're a welcome hand and a great aid, but why?"

Balthier turned to him with contempt, but it was swiftly erased from his features and replaced with arrogance. "Worried I'm out to steal the Nethicite, eh? Can't say I'm accustomed to people doubting my intentions. Nothing could be further from my mind. Shall I swear by your sword or some such?"

There was no hurt in his tone – Balthier was too great for that – but Basch knew it wasn't completely absent. He should have already learned from Anya that not all pirates were gil-hungry. "Apologies," he said, inclining his head slightly. "But I needed to know where you stand. Many depend on you…and you seemed to have an interest in the Stone."

Balthier stood and started slowly for their hut again. He had come out here for some sunlight and was met with interrogation. Still, he shrugged; it was easy to forgive Basch. The man was too innocent for real suspicion. "I'm only here to see how the story unfolds. Any self-respecting leading man would do the same."

"What…?" Basch could only ask, watching him walk away, but remembered what Anya said in Rabanastre. It wasn't something he needed to know.

Anya stepped out of the hut with Supinelu and touched Basch's arm. She noticed the small bow of his head and asked, "Is something wrong?"

He turned and held her hand instinctively, but released it soon after. "Balthier was here only moments ago."

"You had an argument?"

"Ah—no," answered Basch. "A discussion of sorts."

Sensing that the Hume wished to change the topic of conversation, Supinelu jumped in. "It seems your companions are all ready to leave. Let this not be our final goodbye, hmm?" He held an open palm out to Basch, who took it, and squeezed meaningfully.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Supinelu. There is much I owe you."

"And so do we," said Anya, enveloping Supinelu in an embrace. It took Basch a moment to realize that by 'we', she had meant her crew with Balthier and Fran. "We shall visit again, Supinelu."

"Please do," said the still young Garif with a chuckle. "It can get dreary sometimes, without the insanity your lot brings."

"Our lot?" Anya feigned offense. "_Our lot_? Is that how you refer to friends?"

"Basch! Anya!" It was Vaan calling, sitting on one of Gurdy's Chocobo, which stood precariously on the bridge near the village exit. From where they stood, Basch spotted Fran and Balthier on another, and Ashe and Larsa while Penelo was alone as well. It seems Balthier realized his previous mistake in the sandsea; not that Basch much minded Vaan's company. "Come on, any longer and Balthier says we'll leave without you guys!"

Anya laughed and started for their companions. "Until our next visit, Supinelu!"

"Yes. Take care of yourself, and may the gods watch upon your village," said Basch with a wave, and followed his young lover towards the bridge.

Supinelu watched them go. "Good luck," he called out when they could no longer hear him. Balthier had taken up a great number of foolish things in the part of his lifetime that Supinelu knew him, but those paled in comparison to what he and his friends aspired to accomplish now. The power of the gods was no plaything, and no heart of gold could escape the greed that came with acquiring such greatness. This time, he couldn't let Balthier arrogantly spurn his wish that they stay safe. This time, they really would need luck.

**XIIXIIXII**

"Yaaaaahoooooo!" Vaan cried, wildly waving his riding crop in the air. He dug his heels deeper into the Chocobo as it sped up, egged on by its rider's enthusiasm. For a split second, the boy and his mount felt one with each other: the sun's heat on their skin, the wind brushing their hair and feathers out of their faces, bringing the sweet smell of pure Ozmone plain greenery wafting into their noses…

"Vaan!" Penelo gasped, wrapping her arms around him even more tightly. Vaan snapped out of his trance with a disappointed drop of his arm. Any other time and he might have turned beet red, forcing an unexpected smile from reaching his lips, but now, wild and free only to find himself tied down, Vaan pouted. As if maintaining the tiny shred left of the link he shared with his boy, the Chocobo slowed and narrowed his eyes, huffing in disgust at the fear emanating from the smaller Hume perched on its back.

Anya and Vaan had long ago switched places, somewhere in the middle of the journey when Vaan enjoyed using the crop too much and Basch had to wrestle the reins from him so as to stop their Chocobo and vomit in a nearby bush.

"Are you all right?" Anya had asked him, rubbing his back helpfully as he continued to retch.

Watching Basch nod weakly and noting the distance that had suddenly disappeared from between him and Anya, Balthier said, "Anya, switch places with the Captain, would you?"

"Sorry, Basch…" Vaan muttered, scratching the back of his head. The older man could only hold his head in his hands in an attempt to regain his equilibrium.

Anya glanced at Vaan with a slight grin. "I'll show you how to _really_ get a Chocobo racing."

Penelo, who had been watching with Fran, Larsa, and Ashe with pitiful expressions on their faces, turned at this. "No!"

Fran looked at her without shock. "No?"

"Well, uh, I…wanted to ride with Vaan…because…"

Ashe's eyebrow had shot up curiously. Even Basch had raised his head to hear her answer.

"Because…this Chocobo is small! So…if Vaan and Anya sat here, they wouldn't fit," said Penelo, nodding vigorously as though it would add truth to her statement. "And…I'm smaller than Anya, and Anya's smaller than Vaan, so if she sat with Basch, they would be more comfortable. See?" the Rabanastran orphan glanced at Fran hopefully.

Balthier cleared his throat. "Your altruism touches our hearts, Penelo, but…"

Fran had then taken pity on Penelo, who'd looked utterly heartbroken. "She has a point," said the Viera, touching her partner's shoulder lightly. "And fewer complaints will give us the sense of a faster journey, no?"

The pirate captain tried not to sigh. "All right, Anya, switch places with Vaan."

Penelo really had had a point. The only problem afterward was dealing with how much Vaan enjoyed riding Chocobo. They were different from Yensa, who seemed to keep at their own pace, bobbing up and down no matter how much their riders forced their way. The Chocobo were friendlier and much more receptive to Vaan's boyish need for a rush. Literally.

"Aw, Penelo," Vaan grunted, not unlike their golden-feathered mount. "We were just starting to have fun!"

"Any faster and I think we'd have been thrown off, Vaan!"

"Well, we weren't going faster, we were just going really fast!"

"All right, all right!" Balthier yelled, pulling his Chocobo up before Vaan's. "Save this for another time."

"In any case, we must stop," said Fran, glancing ahead. There were lines of trees in sight so tall that in the plains, they seemed almost as high as the mountains. "The Chocobo will not dare enter the Golmore Jungle. We send them back. From here we shall travel on foot."

"What?" Vaan frowned, "But we were just—"

"You heard the lady," said Balthier, who hopped off his Chocobo instantly. Fran needed no help doing the same, but she allowed her Hume to set her down anyway. "Although I must say it is a waste to release such good mounts into the wilderness."

"They'll return to Gurdy," said Anya, stepping down her Chocobo and helping Basch, still a little wobbly, come down. "She told me these were some of her best and most loyal warrior Chocobo. Monsters, she said, won't be a problem. They're intelligent, too, and they'll know their way back to Jahara, so we have nothing to worry about."

Ashe touched her mount's beak, remembering her own Chocobo from her childhood. The mount seemed to notice her melancholic mood and nuzzled the side of its head into her face with a slight grunt. She couldn't help but smile and ask, "How do they know their way?"

"Droppings," Larsa spoke up all of a sudden, sounding very enlightened. "Whenever we stopped to rest, they left droppings. A little like… breadcrumbs."

"Smelly breadcrumbs." Vaan made a face as his Chocobo left another dropping. Larsa chuckled at this, to which Vaan responded with a snort, and soon the two were caught up in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"Boys." Penelo rolled her eyes.

"You aren't accustomed to it yet?" asked Anya, giving her an amused pat of the back after she handed Basch their belongings. With a slap to their feathered rumps, the pirates and Ashe sent their mounts racing back to Jahara.

"I expected this from Vaan. Definitely not from Larsa, though," replied Penelo, shaking her head and crossing her arms. "But I guess even princes are boys, right?"

"More than you know," Anya said laughingly, and tried her hardest to forget why _she_ knew.

Allowing Anya to lead the party towards the Golmore Jungle, Fran and Balthier fell behind. The former of the elder pirates nudged her partner. "I remember a time when you would have laughed along with them."

"What? _Me_? Perhaps. But growing into the role of a leading man gives one a different sort of humor."

"And what sort would that be?"

"The sort more associated with witticisms and less with droppings, I'd say."

"I, for one, found it rather…comical."

"Comical…?" Balthier's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and then in incredulity. "Really, Fran? Comical?"

The amusement etched on Fran's face faded slightly. "Oh, yes. Comical."

Balthier gave her a worried glance once he was certain no one was looking. She only tried too hard when she needed to mask her own worry. "You know, we needn't drop by."

"I know," said the Viera, wanting none of the pity she could see laced into Balthier's concern. "You need not fret."

"I know," said Balthier, taking her hand with that incredulous smile again. "So…comical?"

Basch saw the two pirates with their fingers intertwined and almost instinctively stared at Anya's, only to find it raised in a high five with Penelo's. He glanced at the charge Vossler entrusted to him, remembering they were in the middle of a conversation. In the glorious days of Dalmasca and Nabradia, Ashe had come to look upon him as an older brother. Now as they spoke he knew she saw him as more of a burden, an awful reminder of what she had lost, but he was glad that she was opening up to him just the same. They all needed to work together if there was to be peace as in the days of old. "An alliance between Dalmasca and the Empire…?"

Ashe nodded, not bothering to hide her frustration. "Reason tells me it's the only course. We must avoid war with the Empire at all cost. But…I fear I couldn't bear the shame. If I only had the strength…"

Basch shook his head. "A shame perhaps for me and you. But for Dalmasca it is hope."

Ashe didn't like looking at Basch. His face reminded her of the glory of the old kingdoms, of everything and everyone who'd vanished in a simple matter of two years. But she did, anyway, just to show him her disgust. "And you can just accept this, can you?"

Basch didn't mind it. Vossler had carried the same sentiments towards him and Anya. "After Vayne's ruse, I had abandoned hope for honor…yet never did I forget my knightly vows. If I could protect but one person from war's horror…then I would bear any shame. I would bear it proudly. I could not defend her home – what is shame to me?"

The former captain might have missed it, but the princess did not. _Her _home? And the way he'd looked at Anya as he gave his little speech…which had substance, she could not deny, but that doting look in his eyes…it should have been for Anastacia. Not a pirate.

"My people hate the Empire," said Ashe, clenching her fist both at the thought of both Basch's evident longing and submitting to Vayne Solidor. She was surprised Balthier hadn't seen the former. Did perceptive Fran know? "They will not accept this."

"There is hope," said Basch, motioning to the four youngest members of their party, two from Dalmasca, one each from Nabradia and Archadia, and their carefree banter. "Hope for a future where we can join hands as brothers."

Ashe envied Larsa. He still saw the world with rose-stained glasses; he was still a child. And yet he was her only hope for peace. "Perhaps."

"Oh, my. The trees are taller…and much bigger than I expected," said Anya, straining her neck upward as they approached the jungle. She couldn't see the top anymore, or the mountains behind. Already the shadows of the jungle darkened their path.

Penelo wrung her staff nervously. "Fran said this place was fatal after dusk, didn't she? What time is it?"

"A few hours before noon," Anya replied. "We left surprisingly early…though we might have left earlier if Vaan had left us some breakfast."

"Hey!" Vaan chewed on a leftover piece of their gysahl greens with an affronted expression. "Kadalu had some more cooked for you guys, right?"

"Is that Chocobo food you're eating?" Larsa piped in, wrinkling his nose.

"Want some?" asked the street urchin. "It's good!"

"No thank you," answered the prince, waving his hand in protest.

"Actually, carrots are tasty, considering they're good for your health," said Anya. "Although if you'd really wanted some, Vaan, you could have just asked some from the Garif instead of taking your Chocobo's…"

"Eww, Vaan," Penelo grimaced.

Vaan shrugged them off and continued eating. "Ehh, no use thinking about that now. Besides, I've got a good feeling!"

"About what?"

"Bigger trees mean bigger fruits, right?" Vaan grinned proudly, as though he was of the belief that only he could think of such a great idea. "Now we won't have to eat Viper meat. I think we'll be feasting in Golmore Jungle!"

Penelo had a palm over her face. "Is that all you think about? Weren't you satisfied enough last night?" As soon as she said last night, she remembered her conversation with Ashe in their hut and quickly turned away from the conversation with a blush.

"Vaan has a point," said Larsa, "We can eat as we travel with fruits."

Vaan grinned, rubbing under his nose proudly. "Right?"

Regaining her composure, Penelo sighed. "Don't encourage him."

Vaan huffed. "I'm not _that_ bad, am I?"

"_I've got a good feeling_!" Penelo mocked.

Larsa couldn't help but laugh at how his two Dalmascan companions simply threw things at each other back and forth. He'd never had anyone his age to banter with the way they did – he hadn't even really had any close friends, what with all the security measures and the importance his father gave to his education – but now, with their company, it was only a matter of becoming close friends with them until he did.

"Larsa, please," said Vaan, crossing his arms, "this is serious!"

"Oh, I'm – I'm sorry," replied Larsa, barely able to stifle his laughter.

"Don't be, Larsa," said Penelo, shooting Vaan a mocking look. "Somebody's gotta put him in his place."

"Hey!"

"Now, now," said Anya, forcing herself between the two best of friends, "the Golmore Jungle is going to be dangerous. We have little time for your petty love quarrels."

At the sudden silence that followed their bewildered protests, the prince said to the pirate girl, "You _must _educate me on that technique of yours, Anya."

Had Anya been Vaan, she'd have rubbed under her nose arrogantly. Instead, she gave Larsa the smirk Balthier had trained her with. "There isn't a better teacher than experience. And nothing cripples a Hume better than humiliation."

"Amputation, perhaps?"

"Oh, yes, good thinking. That too."

"So _as_ I was saying," said Vaan, quickly clearing his blush, "big fruits. Feasting."

**XIIXIIXII**

Less than two hours in the Golmore Jungle made Anya a happy pirate. The smell of gil was in the air, and the dim lights from the weak magicite lamps that lit their path was so romantic that she wanted to fall behind and hold Basch's hand where no one could see them. She would have, too, if he wasn't so busy covering his nose with his hand and pretending he was in deep thought.

Penelo, on the other hand, was wishing that they'd stayed in the Ondore estate in Bhujerba instead, where they could have feasts every day and where worries were a thing of the past. The Golmore Jungle was an awful place. It was humid to the point that she could smell the less-than-fragrant body odors of their male party members – and that was saying a lot, considering she was a peasant girl from Rabanastre's Lowtown – and the lack of sunlight was so disturbing, she couldn't help but look over her shoulder every few minutes to check if the darkness, hiding behind the chirping of unseen birds and the eerie rustling of leaves to a breeze that wasn't there, was about to swallow them alive.

They were following a road that Balthier said Humes from since the Galtean alliance had built in an attempt to modernize the jungle, a project that was soon dropped when the jungle itself seemed to come alive and sink the Hume-made paths within its thick vines and thorny roots and branches. The dying magicite lamps on the sides of the barely visible road did little to mitigate the fear of darkness anyone in their party might have had (and Penelo wasn't saying it was _her_). The only reason Anya was so happy was because she had collected a whole sack full of coeurl pelts she was going to sell, she said, as soon as they found Mount Bur-Omisace.

"Please stop that, Anya," Penelo had said, clinching her nose in disgust.

"Don't interrupt a pirate at work," Balthier had scolded her in reply. "This puts food on the table." And that was that.

Basch was glad Anya was so enthusiastic about being in a dangerous environment that could be the end of them all if they weren't careful, but he wished she wouldn't insist on skinning every panther that attacked them. The skin she acquired from their kills couldn't be properly tanned because they were in such haste, so naturally the stink that came with a corpse, whether it was in a sack or not, had only one place to go: into their noses, which he'd thought could no longer take more suffering than their sweat had already provided. It was especially worse for him since he was carrying the pale, rippling blue pelts. The flowers on the side of their path, though Moogle-sized and colorful, did little to bring life back to his already extinct sense of smell.

When he asked Anya why she had possessed an aversion to the process of skinning Viper for meat in the Ozmone and yet was so ready to skin a panther, she answered easily, "We aren't going to eat the Panthers. Besides, this is for gil." And Fran and Balthier nodded with the pride of accomplished parents.

Vaan didn't care much about whether taxidermists back in the city would be pleased by the pelts they found or not. He was getting hungry and there were extremely gigantic fruits in the Golmore Jungle – as he had so expertly predicted – but he couldn't lay a hand on any of them.

"Do not touch that."

That seemed to be Fran's mantra as soon as they entered the jungle. He had seen a clump of big red peaches – don't touch that. Fat green watermelons – don't touch that. Huge yellow bananas – don't touch that. So much for feasting.

Balthier was beginning to grow tired of Vaan's habit of trying to sneak off to take one of the many fruits that filled the jungle and Fran's need to warn him about them every time. The only reason he wasn't scolding the boy already was because he knew better, while Vaan didn't. Long ago, Fran had informed him and Anya that the fruits of the Golmore jungle – if not bestowed to them by the jungle or its 'children' – would put them into a frenzy. It was why all the beasts here were insane, with the exception of the Treant, a child of the jungle itself, and the Viera, of course. But Fran didn't want to hear about _that_.

Fran didn't mind constantly having to remind Vaan that he was not to touch any of the fruits of the jungle, mostly because explaining why and having him keep quiet for good would force her to speak of the Viera who lived in the jungle, the Viera to whom she used to belong. Just the thought made her shiver, so, spotting Vaan reaching out for an enlarged pear from the corner of her eye, she willingly returned to her task, regardless of Balthier's growing aggravation.

"Do not touch that."

Vaan sighed.

Ashe ducked under an oversized leaf as she followed Fran deeper into the jungle. She could smell the freshly skinned panther pelts and their sweat and hear Fran tell Vaan to get his hands off the jungle, but she paid them little mind. Nothing was sinking in. That she was now working towards a peace treaty between the Empire and her kingdom, that she had accepted the help of the son of her father's murderer, that Anastacia was truly dead. No matter if the evidence was right before her; it was just too difficult. Her father hadn't prepared her for _this_. Or perhaps he had – but when she was younger, when she'd imagined ruling two merged kingdoms by Rasler's side, she had also imagined her father and Anastacia to be right there with them. Although such a future was impossible now, it was still difficult to accept…

The beauty she noticed hidden beneath the darkness and the humidity of the Golmore Jungle she could barely pay attention to with all this muddling her thoughts. She wanted to rest, to be able to forget about war for a moment, but she had already been given that chance in Jahara. For a night, she had been a civilian, an average girl almost out of her teens, yet still giggling about love and dancing the night away with her friends. For a night, she had been free of troubles. It shocked her to think that she had the pirates to thank for that. But for now it was back to reality, and as if the jungle had heard her thoughts and agreed, Ashe missed an outlying vine on the road and tripped.

Larsa only wished he hadn't worn those infernal royal heels out to what he should have known would be an adventure.

"Ashe!" Penelo caught the princess's arm before she could fall flat on her face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Penelo," said Ashe, shaking her head to wake herself up. She was about to ask why she had returned to her senses with shining tears blurring her vision when she realized that she wasn't crying – there were neon blue lights ahead that rippled like water.

Upon closer inspection, Larsa figured out that it was an entire object instead of several lights that rippled like water. It was an image he didn't recognize – though it looked like some ancient symbol of great importance – that blocked what Fran had said was the right path to Bur-Omisace.

Larsa and Vaan glanced at each other and nodded, then boxed at two sides of the image at the same time. They managed to create two holes, but withdrew their hands when they hit something hard behind the rippling image, which then seemed to piece itself back together. The older boy made a face at the sap that covered his fist. "What is this?"

"It's slimy…" Larsa said to their companions, removing his glove and holding it up for them to see. "And yet the image works as a shield."

Ashe drew her sword. "Might we drill through it?"

"No…" Larsa stuck a finger into the image and drew it out without so much as a grimace. Balthier wished he would act his age instead of reminding him of an old scientist driven to insanity. "This works somewhat like a waterfall. No matter how we try to cut through it, the water still falls back into place."

Vaan crossed his arms. "But, uh, couldn't we still get through the waterfall? I mean, it's just water."

Larsa tried not to narrow his eyes at Vaan. His aching feet caused his irritation, not his friend. "I did say _somewhat_, didn't I? Imagine this as a waterfall hugging a stone cliff, then. Even if we do get through the water, there is still a hard wall waiting for us past it. No matter what we try, I don't think we can get through this, except perhaps through…"

Penelo leaned on her staff thoughtfully. "What about magick?"

"My thoughts exactly, Penelo."

The magick-user beamed. Vaan rolled his eyes. Fran got in between them and gave them an expression meant to silence. Balthier and Anya had been watching their Viera partner for her reaction as soon as they realized that the barrier seemed to be alive, and Basch was only as quiet as he was wont to be.

"What do you think, _Amba_?" Anya asked almost fearfully.

Everyone stared at the Viera for her answer, but she looked back and could only see the empty paths behind them that seemingly led nowhere. "The jungle denies us our passage," she said.

"What have we done?" asked Ashe. Had the Archadian Empire overpowered that which the Dynast-King, in his reign, could not?

"We?" Fran almost scoffed, "No. I."

The uncertainty in Fran's crimson eyes was a surprise to her fellow pirates, but not something completely new. Balthier had seen it first when they agreed to become partners, and Anya had seen it second when she joined their little cast and she learned of their pasts as she surrendered her own. As soon as the two spotted it, they knew they were soon to speak of the past, whether or not forgetting it was a principal rule within their cast.

As Vaan called after them, brisk walking through the path towards a dead end, Balthier glanced at Anya meaningfully. Holding her by the arm, the younger of the Humes asked their Viera, "Are you making an appearance, _Amba_?"

"I am," the Viera answered.

Balthier seemed disappointed by her answer and stopped. "I thought you'd left for good."

Fran didn't look back at him. "Our choices are few."

Balthier quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Fran withheld a sigh and turned back to face him. Anya stopped too, wondering what was going on. "You are ill at ease," said the Viera to her chosen mate. "The Nethicite troubles you. You've let your eyes betray your heart as well."

"As well…?" Balthier repeated, clueless of her meaning, and then shrugged in resignation. He didn't know why he was still surprised – she'd always been able to see through him. "Right."

Anya realized she had missed a few conversations between the two. She hadn't had the chance to converse with them in such a long time.

The rest of the party caught up while Fran's index finger glowed and she wrote words into the air, after which the path that seemed to have led nowhere revealed itself as an illusion, and instead of nowhere it revealed itself as a tunnel. At the end of it there was a welcoming bright light, and even the Archadians in the party couldn't help but stare in awe.

"What did she do?" Basch whispered to Anya.

"We go to seek aid of the Viera who dwell ahead," Fran explained.

"I bet they'll be glad to see another of their kind," Penelo offered with a smile.

Fran turned away slowly. "I am unwelcome. An unsought guest in their Wood."

"Well," Balthier stepped forward before anyone could ask any more about the past, "let's get this over with, shall we?"

When Penelo went into the light, she realized why the jungle was dark everywhere else. The Viera had taken all the sunlight and concentrated it into this area, much like the Archadian Empire had taken Dalmasca's resources and put them all to use in their own land.

The Eruyt Village was, simply put, a series of connected tree houses. Penelo hadn't actually ever seen a tree house, but the books Migelo gave her had old paintings of the forests abundant in Nabradia, including a picture of the royal tree house of Rasler and Anastacia within Castle Nabudis itself, though even that was crude compared to the elegant homes of the Viera here. Where tree houses in Nabradia had appeared truly as the artificial homes they were, the homes of the Viera here were so natural that it seemed as if the jungle had opened its trees for the Viera to build into. No, it was so natural that it seemed as if the jungle itself had built homes for its children, the Viera.

With that thought in mind, Penelo didn't feel so bitter about them taking all the sunlight anymore. It was reasonable for the jungle to choose to bestow the light it had to its children here in this village while trespassers and beasts could rot in the darkness outside. And here there actually was a breeze, and the fragrances of the Viera's salve-making deeper into the sun-kissed trees were so strong that Penelo had almost forgotten about the coeurl pelts.

Fran squeezed Anya's shoulder. "Go into the village and find Mjrn. Bring her to me. She will know why you call her."

Penelo pulled Ashe along. "Can we come, too?"

Fran nodded and looked over her companions. "You are curious as to the ways of the Viera here. You may accompany them if you wish."

"I'll stay, of course," said Balthier.

"As will I," said Basch, setting the many sacks he carried down. Equipment, coeurl pelts and other loot, and items with accessories all accounted for. "I'd like to take a seat."

Balthier smirked. "We understand, captain. Age can be a detriment at times."

Basch gave him a rare glare. He knew it was of no importance to Anya, but he still wished the word _age_ was taboo. "Would _you_ like to carry our items? Equipment? Loot?"

Balthier waved him away with little guilt. "All right, all right, sit if you want. I suppose we could all use some rest."

"Come on, Larsa," said Vaan, mowing his friend forward.

Larsa pushed back with his aching feet, saying, "Oh, but I—"

"We're _not_ gonna miss this!" Vaan exclaimed, and that was that.

The five younger members of the party strode into the village with evident hesitation. As soon as they stepped into the village proper, Viera from the trees above, below, and beyond gathered to watch them. A few of them clothed as warriors – very reminiscent of Krjn – readied their arrows.

"They're just…staring," Penelo mumbled, instinctively locking her elbows with Ashe's and Anya's.

"No," said Larsa, "they're—"

"Waiting," Ashe finished. "The Viera are a wise race. They wait."

"Waiting for _what_?" Vaan asked, shamelessly staring back at all the women whose eyes bore into his being.

"A wrong move, perhaps," said Anya, noting every finger clipped tightly against a bowstring. "We've yet to provoke them."

"Something tells me our mere presence incites their anger," said Ashe, but she walked forward as though undaunted just the same.

Vaan stopped by a bubbling spring at what seemed to be the heart of the village. "Hey!" he yelled out to the crowds of Viera glaring at them from their trees, "we're looking for Mjrn. We'll leave you alone once we talk to her!"

"Vaan! Quiet!" Penelo gasped, almost tackling him so as to cover his mouth.

To their surprise, one of the Viera warriors lowered her weapon and approached them. She said, "You will not find Mjrn here. Leave now."

"We come in peace," Ashe insisted. "We need only to speak with Mjrn—"

"You will not find Mjrn here," the Viera repeated.

"She's gotta be here," Vaan frowned. "Fran said she would be."

Larsa couldn't see the Viera's eyes past her helmet, but he knew by the sudden tilt of her head and the way her lips stiffened that she was struck by something the boy had said.

"Come on," Vaan urged the warrior. "You want us out of here fast, right? Just tell us where Mjrn is."

The warrior frowned. "Perhaps you will believe Jote, doubtful Humes."

"Jote?" Anya repeated. "Will you take us to her?"

"Follow the immediate steps to the right, to the left, and to the right," the warrior instructed. "You have been warned – you search in vain. Fran may have returned too late."

"You know _Amba_?" asked Anya.

"I know little of your Hume words," said the warrior, again as impermeable as the barrier outside the village. "See Jote if you must, and leave at once."

"To Jote, then," said Ashe, though she had no clue of who this Viera could be. She and Anya were too prideful to ask the Viera warrior for directions again, so they stumbled through Eruyt Village, going up and down paths, at times shrinking away from the stares they received and at times ignoring them (only Vaan had no trouble meeting their jealous eyes head on), until a limping salve-maker had had enough of them and given them clearer directions on how to reach Jote.

They passed the main salve-making tree house in the village on the way, and Penelo was so taken with the fragrances that she was about to ask Ashe if she could stay there a little longer. She changed her mind when Vaan asked her why the salve-makers wore so little when it was breezy in that part of the forest and decided that they would leave as soon as they found that Mjrn.

Finally, the five stopped at a tree house near the top of the village. The sun shone the brightest here, but none of them felt the need to squint, as if the jungle was meant to provide this place shade. Penelo resisted the urge to cover Vaan's eyes – the Viera here were the most scantily clad, save for one dressed in a somewhat bare bodice (which the girl supposed was the most decent any Viera could get around here next to the warriors). She sat tallest amongst the others and looked in their direction only when the rest already had their turn to glare at the unwanted village guests.

"Look," Anya said to her companions, "she has _Amba_'s eyes." To the woman she asked, "Are you Jote?"

This woman was Jote, and she looked closely at the Hume who mentioned her name. The little girl stared at her with unreasonable familiarity, and she smelled so much like an old memory. They all did – but she the most. Could it be…?

"Hey," Vaan said, waving a hand at the woman for her attention. "Mjrn lives here, doesn't she? We're here to see her."

Jote snapped back to her senses. The Wood would not welcome thieves, least of all the thieves who stole one of Her own daughters away. "You will leave at once," she said. "It is not allowed for Humes to walk on these grounds."

Ashe and Larsa, though royalty through and through, were intimidated by her presence. Jote was beautiful even amongst the throngs of elegant Viera they'd passed on their journey to her. She had the same magnolia hair as the rest, the same voluptuous figure, but the shape of her face and her crimson eyes set her apart. And she felt so…old. None of them could explain why she felt years and years past them.

But Vaan had never been one to care for boundaries and stubbornly said, "We'll go as soon as we've seen Mjrn."

Jote crossed her arms. This boy even reeked of the old memory's defiance. "If you can find her."

Vaan didn't understand why they insisted on making things harder for themselves. They all wanted the same thing – to get on with their lives. "We're not leaving until you let us see her."

Jote scoffed and turned her head away. The defiance was too familiar to bear.

"Fine then," Vaan harrumphed, turning around. "We'll look for her ourselves." He jerked his head in the direction leaving the village. Not wishing to ruin such a glorious exit, Anya motioned for the rest to follow, only to find Fran, Balthier, and Basch standing before them.

It was a family trait of Jote's to have an aversion to the past. Another was to face it anyway.

"I've heard the voice of the Wood," Fran said as cordially as possible, approaching her. "She says Mjrn is not in the village. Jote – where has she gone?"

"Why do you ask?" Jote replied, the venom in her voice distorting her perceived perfection. "The Wood tells us where she has gone. Or…can you not hear her?"

Only Balthier had ever seen the shame Fran carried for an expression, but she took it back as soon as Jote spoke again.

"You cannot," said the Viera who shared her eyes, though she'd known the answer long before. She circled Fran like a vulture round its prey. "Your ears are dull from hearing _their_ harsh speech, I think. Viera who have abandoned the Wood are Viera no longer. Mjrn, too, has left her embrace."

Balthier did not appreciate how Fran seemed rendered completely helpless before the past. "And you forsake them in turn?"

Jote thought little of the opinion of a Hume to their customs, but Fran's scent was strongest on him. She shouldn't have cared, but she hated him anyway. "It is the will of the village. Viera must live always with the Wood. So is the Green Word, and so is our law."

"We'll let you worry about keeping your laws," Vaan sneered. They were pretty, but their condescension made them no better than Archadians. "Just do us a favor and stay out of our way. We'll find her ourselves."

All of a sudden, a gentle wind picked up around Jote. The Viera tilted her head, as if listening closely to hear the slightest whispering, and the leaves parted to allow the light into her face. She breathed deeply until it seemed as though her breath caused the rustling of the leaves all around them, and as quickly as it came the wind went away, the leaves settling into shade again.

"Our sister has left the Wood and gone west," said Jote. "She wanders warrens among men who hide themselves in clothes of cold iron. Thus to me has the Wood spoken."

At once, Fran's sister strode back to her place amongst the Viera.

Fran would not allow her a grand exit, however. "The Viera may begin as part of the Wood," she said, "but the Wood is not the only end we may choose."

"The same words I heard fifty years ago," replied Jote, sparing Fran not another glance, and disappeared into her home. As though pleased by their leader's terseness, the Viera dispersed.

Balthier thumped Vaan on the back on their way to the village exit. "Not bad. Didn't think we'd get any information out of that one." He allowed the boy to rub under his nose proudly before continuing, "So then, what was she saying about men in a warren?"

Larsa, who had kept his mouth shut due to a shocking lack of confidence before the Viera, felt it time to provide input. "The Henne magicite mines – maybe that's what she meant. They lie in Bancour, south of the Ozmone Plain. The entire region is a colony of the Archadian Empire. There would be soldiers."

"Is that a problem?" Balthier smirked, taking Fran by the hand as he began for the jungle. "Let's move."

"Fran!" Vaan called once he was finished being proud of himself.

Feeling she owed the child more attention than usual, the Viera turned. "Yes?"

"I was wondering—what Jote said, you know? About how you said the same thing fifty years ago?"

If Fran knew Vaan – and she had for a few weeks now – this would not end well. She quirked a brow, hoping for his sake that he would understand that she was telling him to shut his mouth. "Your point?"

Vaan's eyes shifted left and right. He touched his lower lip unsurely but asked anyway, "Uh – how old were you again?"

Fran had always been a good judge of character. Refraining from slapping him sharp across the face was gratitude enough in Hume standards for his earlier defense of her, she surmised, and simply decided to ignore him for the rest of the day.

Balthier resisted the urge to rub his hands over his face. "Nice, Vaan," he groaned, and walked away with his partner.

Ashe followed, sparing him only a scoff and a bewildered expression, while Larsa said reprovingly, "Surprisingly rude…"

Penelo was embarrassed for both of them. How could she have developed such an infatuation for someone so insensitive? "Try to grow up, please."

Basch watched him pitifully. "Some questions are better kept to oneself," he offered. Anya followed after giving a comforting squeeze to his shoulder.

Vaan scratched his head. "What did I say…?"

**XIIXIIXII**

The Henne Mine was littered with Imperial soldiers and researchers, but contrary to Larsa's prediction, they posed no threat to the party at all. They were either unconscious or dead, or so racked with fear that they could barely make coherent sentences.

Either way, Balthier hated the place. Not only was it filled with researchers from the Draklor laboratory; it was also exactly like the Lhusu mines – dim lights, broken tracks, crashed mine carts – but shades worse. This had no spans to open to alfresco areas. They were three adults, three girls almost out of their teens whose fighting abilities were questionable at times, one sheltered prince, and _Vaan_, entering a cave Archadian soldiers were fighting tooth and nail to escape. Sometimes he doubted his own common sense.

"We're walking into a cave-in," Balthier said, his gun ready to fire. "I know it."

"The Henne is an alternate source of magicite for the Archadian Empire," said Basch, wondering if the great pirate captain was actually _afraid_. "Doubtless, the mine is heavily fortified. We will suffer no cave-ins."

"Says the optimist," Balthier grumbled.

Basch couldn't help but feel amusement towards the man's surly attitude. He hadn't seen him this bothered since the Leviathan, and the Lhusu before that. "Are you all right, Balthier? You seem ill."

"_Tatah_ isn't well-suited to places we may be trapped in forever," Anya explained in a whisper. There was also the matter of the Draklor researchers, but this was a good enough cover up. "Teasing him can only worsen things."

Balthier scowled at the younger pirate. "I don't need Fran's ears to hear you, Anya."

Vaan almost walked past a lever built into one of the pillars supporting the Archadian structure when it glowed a bright blue. "Hey, what's this?" he asked as soon as he pushed it down. The earth trembled.

"Cave-in!" Balthier declared, "What did I say?"

As if to spite the pirate, the tremors stopped. Everyone glanced at Vaan, and a question hung in the air. Ashe asked for all of them, "What did you _do_, Vaan?"

"N-Nothing! I didn't do anything!" Vaan insisted, jumping back from the lever.

Fran, who had strode further into the mines than the rest in an attempt to catch Mjrn's scent, shook her head. "It was merely a switch," she said, motioning to an open gate many steps past the lever. Above it shone two lights the color of the lever Vaan had just seen. "To open this gate. Let us move quickly."

A note tacked into one of the pillars supporting the cave caught Anya's attention. "Look at this," she called to her companions, and began to read its contents out loud. "For immediate distribution and posting: the colour of the switchboard phosphor corresponds with the gates currently closed. Accordingly, use of the switchboard opens gates of the colour presently illuminated. Note your desired route and open such gates as it requires. It follows that one cannot open red and blue gates simultaneously. As gates throughout the mine are linked, do verify your route in advance. Workers' Weekly Wisdom: no accidents, no injuries, no—"

"That's quite enough, Anya, thank you," Balthier interrupted. "Your attempt at an Archadian accent was pitiful, by the way."

Anya feigned a look of disappointment. "Another thing I never learned from you, I'm afraid. Besides shooting."

Under normal circumstances, Fran would have laughed and set them apart before they started another argument, but she had no time to mediate. Upon noticing her lack of an amused reaction, her two Humes silently agreed to a truce.

"Opening the blue gates closes the red, and vice-versa," Larsa noted. "Yes, I've seen this type of contraption before. They're to make sure that only the Empire, with plans on which sites to dig through, can access the magicite."

"Figures," Vaan remarked.

The blue gate opened into a pithead junction with the northern and western exits barred, having red gates, while the eastern exit was open to exploration. Ashe no longer wondered about the bodies scattered about and walked eastward with Fran, Anya, and Penelo at the head of the party.

"Wait," Vaan called, throwing a thumb backward, "what about the other gates?"

"We explore the open areas first," Anya said, the only female in the party currently on friendly terms with the boy, "and track back once we hit a dead end. Or find Mjrn."

"Okay," Vaan said, and then the earth rumbled and the blue gates slammed shut.

Instinctively, Penelo whirled. She, Fran, Ashe, and Anya were trapped behind the gate that had closed. "Vaan!"

Her best friend raised his hands innocently. "I didn't touch anything!"

"It's true," said Larsa, reaching for his rapier. Slimy, blue Jellies were dropping from the ceiling so suddenly that Basch wondered why he hadn't noticed them before. One in particular had had enough sense to flick the switch and close the gates.

A shot rang out through the cave. Balthier had fired at three Jellies with one bullet, but he was swift to see that it didn't matter. Like the barrier in the Golmore Jungle, their bodies regenerated as soon as the bullet tore through them, save for the last, in whose belly the bullet simply sunk.

"I presume you intended for that to end differently," said Basch, whose unsheathed sword sliced clean through a pair of the blue flans. He was dismayed to find that the dislodged parts continued to move and merge with the other Jellies. "…As did I this."

"Balthier!" Anya called out from behind the closed gates, "Remember when we fought Flans in the Garamsythe? Our weapons were ineffective and we were forced to resort to magick – _Amba_ stocked up on precautionary fire magicite for another occasion like it. You should find it in our item pouch!"

"Vaan! Behind you!" Penelo screamed, banging at the gates as though it would help.

Vaan had been too shocked at the sudden turn of events to unsheathe his sword and ended up whirling as he punched the air. When he realized he'd actually hit something, he opened his eyes and realized that he'd punched a Jelly's eye deeper into its body, effectively scrambling its insides. "Ugh," he grimaced, arm deep in slime, while the Jelly, mouth still in place, roared angrily.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Ashe exclaimed. "Larsa, pull the lever – we will join the battle!"

Larsa was quick to obey, but no matter how hard he pulled or pushed the switch, it was stuck. And slimy. "I don't understand," he said, his voice growing hoarse, "shouldn't slime make it easier to move around?"

Vaan groaned again and held up his free hand. He'd finally drawn his sword. "The slime gets hard and sticky when it dries!"

"Use fire magick," Fran insisted. "And the fire magicite, if you must!"

Nearly numb from having the Jelly slime harden on his skin, Basch fought his way to the gate. Balthier had lightened his burden by taking the items sack. "We will take the northern and western paths," said the former Captain. "Divided and in smaller numbers, they will be easier to defeat."

Anya touched the part of the gate on where his hand rested, an action not unnoticed by the others. "Won't it be the same for you?"

"We shall manage," said Basch, refraining from nearing his face to hers behind the gate under Ashe and Fran's stares, and pulled back. "Go and find Mjrn. We will follow as soon as we are able."

Penelo watched Vaan struggle through to the northern path. "But—"

"Go!" Balthier ordered, kicking a Jelly in the eyes and regretting it soon after. Now wasn't the time for pugilism. "The sooner you find Mjrn, the sooner we can focus on the Jellies and get out of here!"

"To Mjrn," Fran agreed, and Anya and Ashe pulled a protesting Penelo along.

It was quieter in the next areas, as though the Redmaws and Seekers in the mines were accustomed to screaming Humes and roaring monsters and metal clashing and the earth rumbling. After a few sharp turns on more train tracks, they descended some stairs into a labyrinth of dig sites.

Penelo looked left, right, and forward. "Wh-where do we go from here?"

"I say we go forward," replied Anya, "the fastest way from a point to another is a straight line, isn't it?"

Ashe gave her a skeptic look. "That's true, unless the point you're looking for isn't a point directly ahead of you. It could be in any direction and we wouldn't know."

"Oh, yes," Anya realized sheepishly. Well, Rasler had always been the academically accomplished one. "You're right."

Penelo held her staff before the many paths, wishing it were a compass that could point them in Mjrn's direction. "Why don't we split up and look for the right way?"

"No," Fran said. "We stay together. If we are divided and set upon by fiends…"

The four went forward, and the paths that followed would have reminded Vaan of the starry world he had dreamed of had he been present. The rocky night blue walls twinkled with magicite. Unlike the mines in Bhujerba, this cave's resources had yet to be fully exhausted. The Archadians knew this well, which explained all the carts and barrels interrupting its natural beauty. Twists and turns later, the rocks ended and they descended another flight of stairs into another mine shaft.

"And deeper into the mine they went," said Anya, as if narrating a story. "_Amba_, have you caught anything of Mjrn's?"

"A faint scent," Fran replied, her nose high in the air. "We are on the right track."

Ashe's eyes widened as she put a finger to her lips. "Shh!" She pointed to a Tyranorox snoring towards the end of the shaft. "If we can help it, I'd like to avoid fighting dinosaurs today."

"A request easily fulfilled," said Fran, taking a few arrows from her quiver. The bats hiding under the ceiling were dealt with swiftly and silently. As soon as they climbed the steps into the next crossover area, Fran raised her head and gasped. "Is it her? What is this Mist…?" Turning left, she stopped to motion for the others to follow suit.

Just as they moved to enter a staging shaft, another mining area without heavy construction, the gate before them slammed shut.

**XIIXIIXII**

Basch could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He was running as fast as he could, and yet all the Jellies needed was to extend a tentacle and grab his leg and he would be done for. Exhaustion was beginning to creep into his system. A weakness he had never been able to correct was his poor constitution to any sort of ride, be it on a ship, an airship, or a mount. Vaan's excess enjoyment at his expense this morning still had him shaken up despite the back rub Anya had given him when they were finally able to ride a Chocobo together, and only worsened when he was exposed to all the pungent coeurl pelts.

The thought of it made him want to vomit again, and as he stumbled over the cart tracks, he thought he actually might. That was until a Jelly actually reached out for his leg, and he forced vertigo out of his mind and picked up on speed. Soon he could see a zebra-haired man in an intricate vest running for his life up ahead, a sack of items slung over his shoulder.

Ever since he was a child, Basch made it a point to be the calmer out of a pair or a group he might be in, but at the moment he couldn't hide his bewilderment. "Balthier?" he said, catching up to the pirate, "What are you doing here? You were to take the northern path with Larsa!"

Balthier was busy counting the number of magicite he could fit into the spaces between his left fingers and running fast enough to avoid the Jellies at the same time, noticing the older man only when he had begun to surpass him. "Basch?" The shock was evident his tone as well. "You were supposed to go north with Vaan!"

If he wasn't about to collapse from fatigue and continuous vertigo, Basch would laugh. "It seems we've taken the wrong path. Any plans?"

Balthier seemed pleased enough with the seven magicite pieces in his left hand – two large stones between his pinky and his middle finger and five small ones between the latter and his thumb – and raised his hand to show Basch. "This should be enough for a good fire spell, don't you think?"

"If you're any good at fire spells, yes," Basch replied, his breathing heavier by the second.

"I'm disappointed that you would even question it," said Balthier, pouting affrontedly, but frowned genuinely when he took a better look at his running companion. "Are you all right? You look rather blue."

"Now that you ask, no," said Basch, barely stopping a shiver from reaching his shoulders. "Toss me the sack and destroy them."

Balthier knew better than anybody that he didn't like being ordered around, but Basch looked absolutely pitiful and his haste was there for good reason. Hurling the item sack at the poor man, he pulled the rest of the fire magicite he'd managed to find from his pocket and muttered the Firaga incantation to the stones in his hands. An outsider would have thought that he was losing his grip on reality and whispering sweet nothings to a clump of rocks, but the Jellies were intelligent and recognized his thaumaturgic utterings, having been terrorized by Imperials who had driven them away from their homes before.

Their sudden attempt at retreat was too late. Balthier finished the spell and looked almost as if he were breathing the rings of fire that erupted within the Jellies, causing them to shriek in pain and melt slowly into slimy blue puddles.

The fire died down in a few minutes and Balthier reluctantly wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. He approached the little slime pond that had gathered from the Jelly remains – including their eyes and the bullet he had fired previously – and poked it with his foot to reassure himself that they were dead. Balthier sighed in relief when it didn't move or extend a tentacle to punch him in the face again (as one earlier had).

He said thoughtfully, "Very dramatic, crying out as it died like that. Fitting for the victory of a leading man, hmm?" When he realized he could hear the sound of a man regurgitating the rest of breakfast over his own voice, he turned, and was somehow still shocked by the sight of Basch regurgitating the rest of breakfast. He approached the older man and gave him a supportive pat on the back. "There, there, Captain. The run was too much, eh?"

Basch lifted his head slightly to show him a cold expression. He was not in the mood for jokes.

"Terrifying," Balthier commented. Taking out a disposable handkerchief from their item sack, he said carefully, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you like this with Anya."

Basch returned to vomiting on the side of the tracks.

Well, he certainly didn't expect that. He had his suspicions, but Fran hadn't mentioned anything of late, so he supposed Anya's little one-sided crush on the man was just that. Balthier almost felt indignant for his little girl, but it wasn't Basch's fault all he had on his mind was saving Dalmasca. The task now was to make Anya realize this so she would return to complete their world-renowned trio again. She had felt so distant since that fateful fete night…

Balthier made a face at himself. Was Basch really that influential? A leading man, talking of fate like a minor character… He shuddered and gave Basch the handkerchief. "Hopefully that'll be enough to ward away any more flans that might want to join our little party."

"Thank you," said Basch, taking the piece of cloth and wiping his mouth. He felt much better now and returned to his usual task of ignoring Balthier's quips. This was, after all, the most helpful the pirate had ever been to him, personally. "Lesson learned – I shan't share a Chocobo with Vaan again."

Balthier grinned. "Glad you're back to your optimistic self, captain. There isn't a problem with sharing one with Vaan – the terror is with him taking the reins."

"I only wish I had known earlier. And that the others are safe…"

Balthier eyed him and wondered for the first time if Basch's thoughtfulness was all pretence. Could anyone really be so selfless? He was certain to be weak, having just vomited – in fact, his body was still shivering from the exercise – and all he could think about were the others? Balthier had his worries, of course, but he never voiced them so freely as did the former captain.

"I wouldn't worry about the girls," said Balthier, knowing, though it was difficult to believe, that the concern in the older man's voice was true. "If I can stand running deeper into this hellish place, Fran and Anya will have no problem of it. Penelo and Ashe, too. I would worry about Vaan and Larsa."

Basch eyed him and wondered for the first time if Balthier's confidence was all pretence. Could anyone really be so certain of everything he did? Granted, most of his plans usually worked out well, if not for his own cunning then because of their trio's amazing teamwork and wondrous ability to appear to be reading each other's minds in dire situations. Basch was confident of his own power, of course, but he was never so aloof as the pirate captain.

"Balthier," he asked seriously, having forgotten about the pirate's concern for his crew on the Leviathan, "Are you so confident of their abilities? Do you…do you ever worry about them?"

Balthier was tying the equipment and item sacks together – Basch had earned his help, but there was no way he would carry the coeurl pelts – so he thought he'd heard wrong. "What?"

"Don't you ever worry about Fran and Anya?"

Balthier's smirk faded when he realized the former captain was being serious. "Every day of my life."

"Then why do you take them along?" Basch thought of the scar near Anya's ankle. "You know your escapades put her in peril."

"Them," Balthier corrected, quirking an eyebrow. "You meant _them_, didn't you?"

Basch feigned nonchalance. His desire to get to the bottom of things was greater than his embarrassment. "Yes, of course."

Balthier shrugged. "They joined me of their own accord, captain, and they are free to leave when they so desire. If we result to using unscrupulous methods to fill our stomachs every now and then…well, that's what headhunters are for. They know the risks. You needn't worry – I do enough of that for the both of us."

Basch was surprised. The pirate captain – being honest? It was rare seeing him this way, he could tell, seeing him admit his fears concerning his crew. "Thank you for your honesty, Balthier. I know it isn't often you speak in this manner."

The pirate captain rolled his eyes. He'd had quite enough of Basch's backhanded compliments and aggravating kind-heartedness for the day. "All right, you seem just about recovered. Let's find the other two and catch up with the rest."

Just as Basch picked up the loot sack, Vaan and Larsa strolled into view.

"Hey, guys! Look what we found!" Vaan waved a large piece of paper in the air.

"It's a map of the mine," explained Larsa, who smiled upon seeing the puddle of slime behind the two adults. "I see you've taken care of the Jellies. Excellent."

Basch's eyebrows furrowed. "Did none of them follow you? And – how did you find us here? Did you not take the northern path?"

"They all followed you," said Vaan, laughing a little, but he dropped his smile when he caught Balthier's scowl. "Anyway, this _is_ the northern path. And the western one, too. They're connected, see?" He showed them the map and pointed to their current location.

"And now that that's all taken care of, let's follow the girls," Larsa suggested.

"Is that vomit?" Vaan pointed to what was left of Basch's breakfast with a cringe.

"Let's move," said Balthier, pushing Vaan along before Basch could shoot a glare that could kill.

**XIIXIIXII**

After much groaning, Fran, Anya, Ashe and Penelo decided that it was probably for the best that it had closed – the men must have defeated the Jellies already. Fran was not content to wait for them to catch up and find a way to open the gate, however, and left to find another pithead junction, leaving her younger companions to form an elaborate scheme involving provoking the bats into angering the Tyranorox with them somehow leading it to butting its head into the red gate that blocked their path.

"All right." Ashe used Anya's dagger to draw a map of the crossover area they were currently trapped in on the wall beside the locked red gate. "Penelo, you will cast Fira on the other bats still flying about. In their panic, they'll make enough noise to wake the Tyranorox."

"Okay."

"Anya, you will catch the dinosaur's attention after it finishes the Redmaws and Seekers and bring it here."

"Understood."

"And I will wait to destroy the Tyranorox as soon as it destroys this gate for us."

"Great idea," said Anya, who looked around. "_Amba_ hasn't returned. We should do this now. Penelo?"

Penelo nodded and closed her eyes in concentration, but was interrupted by the earth's rumbling. The blue gates through which they'd entered had closed, but the red gate was open.

"Either Fran works fast," said Ashe, peeking into the red gate, "or the Jellies often play with the switches."

"_Amba_ works very fast," Anya answered, catching sight of the Viera running towards them. "You did it!"

"I am aware," said Fran, wearing nothing short of pride on her face, and led the way into the staging shaft. It was much like the labyrinth of rocks and stars they had just passed, only in this area there were leaves that grew against the walls. It smelled like rusting iron all the same.

"Mjrn!" Fran gasped.

Ahead of them, a Viera stumbled forward. Her eyes were Fran's, just like Jote's, but unlike her sisters her magnolia hair barely passed her chin. She looked dazed, and the way she moved, arms swinging and head lolling about, was so unnatural that Penelo grabbed Ashe fearfully by the arm.

"The stench of Hume," Mjrn mumbled, stumbling by them. "The stench of power…"

Ashe shared their worry and asked, stepping forward, "What's wrong with her?"

Mjrn whipped her head in their direction and pointed accusingly at the princess. "Stay away!" she screamed, an odd inflection in her tone, as if two beings had spoken through one voice. "Power-needy Hume!"

Ashe gasped, and as if taking the princess's guilty expression as her cue, Mjrn whipped around violently and stumbled in the opposite direction. The earth rumbled a few more times. Anya looked back to see if the gate had closed again, but when a fierce roar echoed throughout the cave, she realized the tremors were caused by anything but an Archadian contraption.

The others had already run ahead to follow Mjrn into the ore separation area, a cylindrical room once filled with tools and machines and ramps that spiraled the place's walls to reach the top. Now only the ramps remained, and a few curtains and drapes along the walls that once brightened the dreary area. For an enormous monster had crushed all the machines in the center, a grey dragon with scaly wings and sharp claws and horns and teeth that could snap them all into half in one bite. A giant silver ring bound its neck as well as four smaller rings on its feet, but even trapped this way it was still terrifying and glorious. As it roared at them, Fran thought it was reminiscent of the Mimic Queen of the Barheim.

Anya thought the same. "_Amba_…" she said, unable to hide her tremble, "How do we defeat something so grand as this? We have no Bombs to aid us this time."

Fran fired an arrow into one of its little yellow eyes. It roared and ran into a wall, causing another tremor and throwing them all off their feet. Even she had no answer to this – they'd never faced a Wyrm before. "Where is Mjrn?"

"She disappeared under one of the canopies!" said Ashe, who had just gotten back to her feet, only to avoid the claw the dragon swiped at them with a far jump backward.

Penelo, having attempted to cast a Blizzard spell, was interrupted by Ashe's tug on her arm. She fell backward, nearly tripping on the princess until she caught her by the waist, and opened her eyes to the sight of a tiny figure – tiny compared to the dragon – climbing the canopies and finding unequal footing on the ramps leading to the top of the area. Was she escaping without them? The thought perished as soon as it arrived when the figure jumped from the ramp with a battle cry, sword raised in the air and aiming for the dragon. "Anya!"

Ashe glanced from her empty sheathe to the figure in the air. "My sword!"

Anya landed on the ring Wyrm, the sword she'd borrowed from Ashe lodged into its back. She removed it and threw it back down at Ashe when she heard its pained shrieks as she attempted to pick a scale from its wings with her dagger.

"Anya!" Ashe groaned, "Now isn't the time to pick at its scales!"

"But – silver scales!" Anya exclaimed. There was always some time to loot even with the most dangerous enemies, Balthier had said. Although he might have been speaking of Ba'gamnan and not an ancient ring Wyrm then. It was a fun game, deciphering the meaning and the applicability of the things Balthier said, but fighting to stay on this monster was not. "And I've distracted the dragon enough, haven't I? Destroy it while it's focused on—ahh!"

Just as Anya managed to pocket a scale, the Wyrm flapped its wings in an attempt to throw her off and succeeded. Penelo could only widen her eyes as the older teen flew across the air and slammed her back into one of the ramps, the impact so great that the wooden planks broke and allowed her to disappear into the canopies below.

"I will catch its attention," said Fran, shooting another arrow in the Wyrm's eyes, "Take care of Anya!"

The two still mobile obeyed, digging through the old machines and tools and cloth to find Anya staring blankly into the space above her. Penelo wasted no time in casting Curaga on her, but all she could do was groan in pain.

"How are you feeling?" Ashe asked, supporting Anya so she could sit up. "That was some damage you received…"

"Greed. Not good," Anya replied with a groan, but patted the scale in her right pocket. "And yet it is rewarding in its own way. My back…"

Ashe rolled her eyes, but she didn't remove her hand from Anya's back. "It's best that you don't move. You might have broken something."

"I hope not," Anya said very slowly, tilting her head to see the goings-on outside the canopy, though the earth rumbling gave her an easy clue. "_Amba_ is…?"

"Distracting the Wyrm until we can find a way to defeat it," Penelo answered, peeking out of the canopy. "Should I cast another Curaga?"

"Please," Anya said, her back still aching to the point that her eyes spilled over with tears. She tried to ignore it; Ba'gamnan had done worse. "What's the plan?"

"I don't know." Ashe gave into a sigh and pretended not to see the pirate's tears. This journey widened her horizons every day. A pirate, crying? She imagined the pain that must have caused them and then decided not to, instead ordering Penelo to cast another healing spell on the girl. "This isn't something so easily solved by presenting proof of my royal lineage…"

Anya snapped her head to look at Ashe. "Yes…yes, it is!"

"What?" Ashe frowned. "This is a beast, Anya. It will not listen to reason."

The pirate girl ignored the princess and continued, "Belias! Let's summon Belias!"

The gears in Ashe's mind began to shift as well. She'd almost forgotten about the power they wielded together. "His power saved for a better—"

"If you can think of a better idea," said Anya, another sharp pain shooting up from her back, "let's have it. I need medical attention."

"Fine," said Ashe, and raised her tattooed hand. "How are we to go about this?"

"I'm not certain…" Anya raised her left hand and held it beside Ashe's right, two half-glyphs forming a whole. Unsurely she called out, "Belias…?"

A deep, rumbling voice echoed in their minds. "_I HAVE HEARD YOUR PLIGHT. I WILL DEFEAT TIAMAT IN YOUR NAME, MY LIEGES._"

Ashe reeled. "Tiamat? This dragon is the wind anima?"

"_INDEED_," said Belias. "_DO NOT FRET. WHEN DEFEATED, HE WILL RETURN TO HIS SLUMBER. HE WAS AWAKENED…BY THE ATTEMPTS OF HUMES TO CREATE THEIR OWN GOD-STONES._"

"God-stones," Anya repeated. "Do you mean Manufacted Nethicite?"

Before Belias could reply, Penelo peeked out into the area and gasped. "Hurry! Fran's about to get crushed!"

"_LEND ME YOUR POWER AS I HAVE LENT YOU MINE,_" Belias said urgently, his voice suddenly very loud, and outside the canopy Fran realized their plan immediately. The Esper's fiery mane materialized first, down to his beaded beards and muscled four arms and legs, and then his intricate weapon. Belias was to Tiamat as the tamer to a beast. She had no doubts that they were safe under the Esper's protection.

"Fran, get out of the way!" Penelo cried, though she hadn't needed to warn the Viera. Quickly Fran backed away and watched the battle between the Esper and the anima from the safety of the staging shaft.

Belias swung his sword at the Wyrm, which growled and snapped its teeth at him, true to Fran's fitting analogy. When Belias raised his sword to attack the beast, Tiamat charged at him headfirst, sending his weapon flying and trapping him in between itself and the wall, but the Esper managed to grip the Wyrm's binding ring. Using it and the wall behind him as support, Belias raised his legs and kicked Tiamat in the eyes. The dragon roared as it fell on its wings and scrambled to get up, but Belias was quicker in his lumbering. Grabbing his sword from the wall, he raised it and plunged its sharp handle into Tiamat's heart.

Tiamat's dying shriek shook the ground, but soon, in a tornado of harsh winds, the ring Wyrm disappeared.

Belias reached a free hand into the canopies and gently brought Ashe and Anya down on the ground before him. He knelt, holding his two right arms over his chest again. "_I HAVE DONE AS YOU ASKED, MY LIEGES. REGAIN YOUR STRENGTH SO I MIGHT AID YOU ONCE MORE._"

"Thank you, Belias," Ashe said, bowing her head gratefully, and in a flurry of flames, Belias disappeared.

At the entrance to the staging shaft, standing with Fran and the rest of the party, Vaan felt his mouth fall agape. "That…was _amazing_!"

"Vaan!" Penelo gasped quietly.

Vaan ran past her to bombard Ashe and Anya with a barrage of questions. "How did you do that? That was great! Can you try it again? Man, I wish I was there to see you summon—"

"Vaan," Ashe breathed with some effort, rubbing her right temple painfully. "Now isn't the time."

Summoning an Esper was a draining task, its otherworldly sensations understood only by those who had already experienced it. To Ashe and Anya it was as though they had summoned Belias from their very beings. Their energy depleted at an alarming rate during the time he was free to roam and fight Tiamat, and their bodies – though extremely weak and yet filled with a continual rush of adrenaline – felt drawn to the battlefield, like their souls had undertaken a task to somehow regenerate, for lack of a better term; to bind Belias back into themselves, where he belonged.

When Belias finally returned, it was all Ashe could do not to collapse, at least for an unconscious Anya's sake. The pirate, she knew, must have been in more pain because of her back injury. She informed the others of this and the first to rush to their side were Balthier and Basch.

"Captain," said Balthier, finding the way the older man had almost beaten him to Anya very suspicious, "vertigo still has you weak. I'm certain Anya would appreciate your kindness, but the task is better left to me."

Basch removed Balthier's hand from Anya's arm and gave him the sack with their loot. "Anya is much lighter than this. I would thank you to take the harder task, just this once."

Balthier narrowed his eyes at the man. He couldn't argue with _that_ logic, even though he was under the impression that their loot could never be heavier than anyone in the party but Penelo. "Just this once," he reluctantly agreed.

Vaan smiled at Ashe apologetically and caught her when Basch had finally taken Anya from her hands. She was too tired to think of the implications of the former Captain's actions and accepted Vaan's support. "Ashe, need me to carry you, too?"

Ashe would have liked to say "yes, please," because she felt she was about to faint, too, until she saw Penelo's dejected expression from behind Vaan and shook her head. Despite her condition, she couldn't do that to a friend. "No thank you, Vaan. However, I believe Penelo is weak from casting several healing spells."

"Penelo?" Vaan dropped Ashe like a hot potato and rushed to fuss over the girl instead.

Only Fran and Larsa were fully aware that Mjrn had stumbled out into the open, the former because the poor Viera was her youngest sister and the latter because of the stone that fell – and shortly broke – from Mjrn's hands as she moved towards them like she'd had too much to drink.

The fussing that had been occurring before this moment stopped when a grey being rose up from Mjrn's body. Vaan could tell that it wasn't a Lich – it was something greater than that, something older and more ancient even than Jote. The only color on its form was its flashing yellow eyes, stark against the eerie grey. Even Fran, who'd been running towards her sister at the time, stopped to let out a fear-filled gasp before the being disappeared and Mjrn fell to the ground.

Unlike Anya, Mjrn regained consciousness soon after. When she was well enough to speak, Fran introduced her to the party that had come to save her, while she explained the reason for her spurning of their village ways.

"When the Hume soldiers came to the Wood, the village took small heed of them. So long as the Wood herself is safe, the Viera give little care to goings on beyond. But in me…an uneasiness stirred," Mjrn explained, glancing to her sister. "I had to discover why they had come."

"So you came here hoping to find something out, and got yourself caught," Balthier finished for her. When she nodded, he shook his head with a slight chuckle. It was laughable now that she was safe. "You're as foolhardy as your sister."

Unaffected by his amusement, though she knew him to be her sister's mate judging by the way his scent had already mixed with hers, Mjrn continued. "They took me then and set me close beside a stone. They said its Mist would be drawn to me, that the Viera well suited this end. I saw the light coming from the stone, and then—"

"We have seen this," said Fran, an unknown fury sparked by the thought of Imperials causing her sister pain. For everyone's sake, she kept it to herself. "On the Leviathan, the Mist from the Dawn Shard drove me, too, into such a rage." To the party, she declared, "She was taken not by the Dawn Shard."

Larsa already assumed this. "Manufacted Nethicite… Then that means—Penelo, the stone I gave you, do you still carry it with you?"

"Sure, it's…" Penelo dug through the items sack Balthier had dumped on the ground and took it out. "Right here."

In a way very unbecoming of a prince, Larsa grabbed the stone from her hands. "This is a thing more dangerous than I imagined… I should never have given it to you." He glanced at her apologetically. "Forgive me, I did not know."

Penelo smiled. "I'd always thought of it as a sort of good luck charm. And even if it is dangerous, on the Leviathan it kept us safe."

Ashe watched Larsa pocket the Manufacted Nethicite. Artificial god-stones, Belias had called them. "There is a place for all things. Even danger such as this."

Vaan remembered the ancient being that had risen from Mjrn's body because of that 'danger'. Ashe wanted to use its power, but so did the Archadian Empire. He wondered if the cause outweighed the cost. "I hope you're right about that."

**XIIXIIXII**

Mjrn had always been jealous of the Humes who took her sister from them, and in her lonely musings in the village once thought she would seek them out and give them a 'piece of her mind', as they said. But upon traveling with them back through the Henne mines, past the Ozmone plain, and back into the Golmore jungle, she realized she rather liked them. They had an amusing inclination to keeping many things in sacks, which Fran's mate was tasked to carry, but they were entertaining and welcoming, total opposites of the men who'd caught her – even the pitiful girl who had fainted. (Anya had barely come to during their trek across the Ozmone, only to lose consciousness after giving Mjrn a pained greeting.)

When they finally reached Eruyt village, Mjrn felt sorrowful. Their journey, though hours long, seemed so short now. Too short. Now she understood why Fran had gone, why Fran chose the life she led now, and she wanted a part of it, too.

Jote was already waiting for them at the fane of the elders when they arrived. Mjrn loved her eldest sister, but her strict obeisance to the will of the Wood had long ago distanced them from each other. It had always been Fran with whom she'd shared her love of knowledge, especially of the outside world. As Mjrn expected, Jote had a disappointed expression as soon as their eyes met. But to the boy who reminded her of Fran's defiance, the village leader gave a locket filled with an unknown liquid.

"Lente's Tear is a permission," she said to him, her head filled with the fumes of nostalgia. When they were still little, Fran had run out of the village with Mjrn to spy on the trespassing Humes. She had brought them back for a good scolding, but at least, then, they were still together. Complete. Now she was left with fragments, with pieces that would never again fit. Vaan stared at her expectantly after her long silence, causing Jote rid herself of the memories and continue. "Pass through the Wood and leave. To other places go."

"That cannot be all!" Mjrn spoke, moving past the safety of Fran's presence and facing her eldest sister. "I saw it when I left the village. Ivalice is changing! How can the Viera stand and do nothing at all?"

Jote looked upon her youngest sister patiently. Fran had said something of the same nature decades before – she could only hope her words would be enough to soothe Mjrn's own adventurous spirit. "Ivalice is for the Humes. The Wood alone is for us."

"But that is wrong!" Mjrn insisted, nearly shouting. "How can we just hide here in the trees when all the world outside is on the move? I, too, wish to live freely – to leave this Wood!"

The Viera watching the spectacle gasped. Jote bid them to leave with a stern expression.

"Do not do this," Fran said. Mjrn hadn't expected the words to come from this sister of hers – she'd thought Fran would encourage her, would invite her to join them on their journey! "You must remain away from the Humes. Stay with the Wood. Live together with the Wood. This is your way."

"But Fran—" Mjrn cried, "My sister!"

It pained Fran to say it, but it was her duty as a sister. She owed it to Jote. "I am no longer of you. I have discarded Wood and village. I won my freedom. Yet my past had been cut away forever. No longer can my ears hear the Green Word. This…solitude, you want, Mjrn?"

Mjrn was trying her hardest not to cry out in frustration. Why was Fran being so unreasonable? "Sister—"

"No, Mjrn," Fran repeated. "Only one sister remains to you now. You must forget my existence."

Mjrn let out a broken-hearted sob, reminiscent of Ktjn's tears in Rabanastre, and fled into the village temple.

Jote watched their youngest sister retreat, as she had in days long past after a harsh reprimand. After many minutes had passed, she continued. "I am sorry to make you do this," she said to Fran. It saddened her that the exiled Viera before her now felt more like a sister than ever before.

"She goes against the laws of the wood," Fran replied, as though breaking her sister's heart and her own was no task at all. "I threw down these laws. It is better that I do this. Better I than one who must uphold these laws herself."

Jote nodded gratefully.

"I have a request." Fran said, and motioned for Basch to come forward. He was carrying a still unconscious Anya. "I fear she has broken something from within, and only the salve-makers have the means to heal her."

Jote eyed the little girl, feigning disinterest. "This is one of your Humes. Is she not?"

"Yes." Fran didn't bother denying it. "Jote…"

"Very well," sighed Jote. "In return for bringing a sister home. The process will consume the rest of the day, however. You will venture out as soon as it is finished?"

"We will camp outside the village."

"No," said a small, quivering voice. It was Mjrn returned from the temple, finished with wiping her tears. Turning to Jote, she said, "Sister, there are abandoned houses near the village exit. Allow them to stay there – they rescued me from the vilest of Humes and brought me back. Do they not deserve more?"

"The Wood bestows gifts as it pleases," Jote corrected her, but after a short pause said to Fran, "you and your companions may stay in these homes, but you will leave as soon as the morning comes."

"Thank you, Jote."

**XIIXIIXII**

Vaan was feasting.

Balthier finally explained to him why he wasn't allowed to pick the fruits from the jungle, but Larsa had found an easy solution to that. Mjrn had become their friend and the kind Viera was more than willing to give them the oversized bananas and peaches and every fruit they set their eyes on. They were given two tree houses, one for the women and another for the men, but both were empty, save for the piles of leaves that the Viera seemed to expect them to use as beds.

"These are the best fruits I've ever tasted," said Vaan, his mouth full of pears. His hands were covered in all kinds of fruit juice, and once he swallowed the pears he licked his fingers of the stains delightfully.

Ashe and Penelo grimaced at the sight. "That's disgusting, Vaan," said the latter. "Why can't you be more like Larsa?"

Vaan turned his head to look at the boy feasting beside him. Larsa had taken his gloves off and pulled up his sleeves so as to eat with his hands, and though his arms weren't dripping with juice and the area around his mouth was still clean, his mouth was still full of giant watermelon. He gave Vaan a difficult smile.

"Nah," Vaan decided, and dug into a mango.

Disgusted, Ashe and Penelo left the men's tree house with grapes the size of apples in hand. When they were far enough into the trees and out of hearing range, Ashe smirked at Penelo.

"You realize you'll have to live with that when you are wed."

Penelo nearly choked on the gigantic grape seed she'd swallowed. Ashe blinked and thumped her on the back, after which Penelo spat it out. "W-Wed?"

"Wed. When two people love each other, Penelo…"

Penelo rolled her eyes at Ashe's patronizing tone. "I know that…but I don't even know if Vaan likes me. I was like an afterthought earlier…and I may have irritated him on our Chocobo in the Ozmone."

"Boys like their fun," Ashe shrugged. "It doesn't mean he hates you. Give him time, Penelo. After all, you realized your own intentions only last night."

"And we've known each other forever," Penelo nodded in agreement, and then covered her face with a groan. "Oh, what if it takes _another_ bit of forever for him to realize it?"

There was that possibility. "Let's hope he doesn't."

Penelo sighed, and decided that she didn't want to deal with Vaan's immaturity at the moment. "How about you?" she asked. "I'm…kind of surprised you didn't want to rush to get to Mount Bur-Omisace. We have Lente's Tear now, after all."

Ashe realized the younger girl was right. She was much less tolerant of waiting in Jahara. She reasoned, "Anya's no good to us with a broken back, is she? If the same thing had happened to me…I know Fran would have done the same."

"Yeah," Penelo agreed. "Although, if Anya hadn't tried to get that scale, that probably wouldn't have happened to her."

"Yes, well, you know what they say about greed…"

"What do they say about greed?"

"…I'm not sure," she said, but thought of the pirate girl's words in the mines. "_Not good_? Let's ask Anya."

Penelo stared at Ashe as they walked, her mouth set in a straight line. Ashe stared back, and not long after they broke into a fit of giggles. "Are you sure you don't need any rest?" Penelo asked humorously, "I don't think you're thinking straight right now."

"I'm fine," Ashe laughed. "Resting now will throw off my sleeping pattern, and I'd like to sleep uninterrupted tonight for tomorrow's journey. The cold of the Paramina Rift will be taxing."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Once in my childhood, though I don't remember," Ashe answered. "Dalmasca, Nabradia, Rozarria, and Archadia – the princes and princesses of these nations must all be taken to Bur-Omisace to be baptized by the Gran Kiltias. Only then will they be recognized as heirs to the crown."

"Wow." Penelo turned her head away from the stares of the Viera they passed and allowed her curiosity to overcome her embarrassment. "How does the Kiltias come to have such great power over all the kingdoms and empires? I read somewhere that he can predict the future, too. Is that true? And if he does know the future, why can't he just tell when someone like Vayne Solidor is going to rise in power and murder so many innocents?"

Ashe felt her friend's rage, but knew it was no good propagating that now. "The Gran Kiltias, though powerful, remains neutral to all the nations. He is there to further our faith and foster peace, but never to intervene in political affairs."

"That's a little useless, if you ask me," said Penelo, riled up by her own words. "If I could see the future like that, I'd help as many nations as I could. Imagine, a Hume with that sort of power? It's unbelievable, but here we are, traveling to see him…"

"Actually, the Gran Kiltias is a Helgas," Ashe said. She hadn't wanted to interrupt Penelo's train of thought, but she'd always felt the need to correct a mistake when she could. "They're a mysterious race with long life spans. No known villages of them exist. They…simply do. The Gran Kiltias, the only known Helgas in existence, is always born into a royal family. Into Dalmasca, Archadia, Nabradia, and then Rozarria – it is a continuous cycle that began after Raithwall's death. Anastasis, the Gran Kiltias today, is the brother of Rasler's great grandfather. Anastacia was named after him…"

"That doesn't make any sense. How can someone of another race be born into a Hume family?"

"It's said that Helgas are born after death," said Ashe, who resisted the urge not to laugh at Penelo's confusion. "Anastasis was a sickly child, and when he was younger he was supposed to have died. It is in this manner that he was chosen to become the new Gran Kiltias. They say that when he was brought back to life by the Gran Kiltias _then_, the Helgas born into the Archadian royal family, that Anastasis was revived a Helgas. A decade later, when the Gran Kiltias died, he assumed the position."

"That's weird," Penelo decided. "That you have to die to become a new race…I guess we're kind of like caterpillars, huh? And only the Gran Kiltias gets to become a butterfly?"

"That's…an odd comparison, but…I suppose?" Ashe let out a bout of hearty laughter. Penelo always managed to put a new spin on things. "It may be you who needs rest, Penelo."

"Maybe," Penelo chuckled, and they finally arrived at the tree house Anya was resting in. Its roof was more colorful than the others, a salmon pink bright compared to the dull browns of the rest. Ashe figured it was some sort of infirmary. Basch was there, too, patiently sitting outside as he arranged their equipment in preparation for the Paramina Rift.

"Basch." Ashe asked suspiciously, "What are you doing here?"

Basch gave them his usual half-smile. "We are setting out for the Paramina Rift tomorrow," he replied (though it wasn't really an answer, in Ashe's opinion). "Balthier thought it best that one of us prepare our belongings for the journey, since Fran is resting and he could not find either of you."

Ashe crossed her arms. "What is _he_ doing, then?"

Basch shrugged pleasantly, and Penelo got the impression that he didn't really care as long as he got to sit down there. "Well, okay. Is Anya conscious yet?"

"I know not," said Basch, glancing worriedly at the door to the tree house. The Viera inside had refused him entrance. "However, Fran said they were finished mending her. Dalmasca could benefit from their advanced healing techniques."

"If they would only share their knowledge of the Wood and its workings," said Ashe. "But the Viera are reclusive."

"True."

"We're going in now," Penelo declared, excited to see the medicine and magick the Viera used to mend, and pulled Ashe into the tree house.

Ashe's suspicions were proven true. There were branches shaped like beds with proper mattresses set in two columns inside, with tools and salves on tables positioned near the door. There was a bed in particular at the very end of the tree house covered by its own curtains; Penelo could see Anya's feet at its edge. The Viera within turned their heads at the strangers' entrance, and the least scantily clad of all of them approached the two.

"Your companion," she said, pointing to the bed farthest from the door, "still rests. I would advise you to allow her uninterrupted recuperation, but I am aware of the meddling nature of Humes. We will leave you to your visit." With a wave of her hand, she and the rest of the Viera in the tree house quietly exited.

When they were all gone, Penelo made a face. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say."

"All the same, she was correct," Ashe remarked, already accustomed to the coldness of the Viera in the jungle. They were nothing at all like Fran, or…Ktjn.

Anya lay with her back flat on the mattress, her hands crossed over her stomach. Her eyes were open when Ashe and Penelo reached her bed. "Thank Faram," she said, giving them a cheerful wave. "I've been here for hours. You're the first to visit me besides _Amba_, you know."

"Well, Vaan and Larsa are busy feasting on the big fruits Mjrn gave them," Penelo shared with a chuckle. "Oh, but Basch has been waiting outside for forever, I think."

Anya's eyes lit up. "Really? Why didn't he visit me?"

Ashe shrugged off the question and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Anya didn't seem to mind. "Much better, thank you. My back has healed completely! Their magick here is astounding. Summoning Belias was the bigger problem, I think. And you, Ashe? I hear you haven't rested at all yet."

"I shall sleep well tonight," Ashe said, dismissing her worry with a half-smile. The thought of Anastacia wouldn't leave her alone, and how Basch was waiting outside for Anya all this time. She couldn't help but feel ire for the pirate before her, even though she considered her a friend. "Don't worry. _You_ should get more rest. We have long days in store for us – the journey to Mount Bur-Omisace will take no more than two days on foot, but wounds ache most in the cold."

"I know," Anya cringed. "I'm certainly not looking forward to that."

"We're glad you're all right, Anya," said Penelo. "I really wish we could learn their magick."

"_Amba_ knows them," Anya offered, "but mostly their black magick. Their white magick requires the aid of herbs from the Wood."

"Interesting," Ashe remarked. "Penelo, you should ask Fran about it some time. Anya, we'll leave you to your rest."

"All right…would you ask one of the boys to bring me some peaches, please?"

Penelo laughed, "Sure Anya. Get even better soon!"

The two left discussing the benefits of Viera magick on Dalmasca, as well as the disadvantages it would bring them if Archadia were to learn of their techniques. Penelo stopped for a moment to tell Basch that Anya was open for visiting, to which he responded by nodding and resuming his work on their equipment, but once he thought they were out of sight, he walked calmly into the tree house. Penelo had expected this and waited behind one of the trees.

"I knew it!" she said, nudging Ashe, "There's something between those two. Oh, isn't it romantic? A pirate and a former captain? Even if Basch is…kind of old…"

Ashe forced a smile to her lips before turning the tide of conversation back to Viera magick. It bothered her too much. Tonight, she would speak with Basch.

Basch stepped into the infirmary, closing the door behind him quietly in the hopes that the Viera outside didn't see him enter. He wasn't sure if he hadn't been allowed before because he was male or because they hadn't finished the healing procedure yet, but just the same he wouldn't take his chances.

"Vaan?" Anya called out, hearing his footsteps. "Are those my peaches?"

Basch smiled when he reached her bed. "No peaches, I'm afraid," he said, dropping the equipment sack at the base of the bed. "The Viera would not permit me to see you."

Anya beamed at the sight of him. "I figured as much. You carried me all the way home, didn't you?"

He wished he could give her a home when this was all over. "Not home," he said. "Just back to Eruyt Village. You are well?" Anya nodded, and Basch took a seat beside her. He brushed the stray hair from her face, almost forgetting that it was only a wig. "Lying in such a position…you look like a princess, Anya." He tried not to think of Anastacia. He had seen the anger in Ashe's demeanor of late – had his pirate's anger over the princess's love for Vossler seeped in and become anger towards what he felt for Anya?

Anya frowned and slowly sat up. Basch reached out to support her. "I'd rather sit, then," said Anya, but smiled as soon as she noticed his apologetic expression. "Not…that I wouldn't want to be…your princess."

Basch laughed. "You feel foolish forcing those words from your lips."

"You know me best."

He wondered if he did. He still hadn't seen the real color of her hair, after all. Anya saw his doubt and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her face up to meet his. "Basch…"

Basch shivered. It was different when she uttered his name. Resting his forehead against Anya's, he closed his eyes. "I feel…as if I've known you. Always."

Perhaps you did, Anastacia thought. "I wish I knew you long ago," said Anya. "And then the castle wouldn't have been so lonely when Rasler – that is to say, Lord Rasler – when…"

Basch opened his eyes. "When Lord Rasler what?"

"When Lord Rasler left to visit Ashe, or train somewhere outside the castle," said Anastacia, hastily thinking of a cover-up. "Princess Anastacia was always so lonely when he was gone. Even when she…invited me to play her games, she was different. And I felt lonely with her. But I know it would have been different with you there."

Basch chuckled. "You might have found me boring in your youth." That and they could never have been happy while Anastacia lived. He could never have given Anya his love with Anastacia around. He wasn't thankful for her death – never! – but perhaps this had all happened for a reason. "Although – you are still in your youth, I suppose."

Anya grinned, possessed by courage she inherited from Fran. "You could never bore me, Basch."

Basch's arms slid around Anya's waist so naturally that he was sure she belonged there.

Anya leaned into his embrace, reminiscent of the night in the Nam-Yensa when he first caught her dancing, only he wasn't hers then. She thought she knew euphoria now, pure elation, the epitome of simple contentment as her mind fell into the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, his breath tickling the top of her head as he pressed his lips there – when something fell _splat_ on the floor.

The pair had been so engrossed in each other that they didn't notice Vaan slam the tree house door when he entered a few seconds previously. He had walked leisurely towards Anya's bed, looking around and wondering where the hitched breathing was coming from.

"Hey, Anya," he'd said when he was close, "Penelo said you wanted—"

_Splat_.

"—peaches." Vaan covered his eyes with the hand that dropped an oversized peach. "Uh—should I go? I should go."

Anya released Basch as he abruptly stood and faced Vaan, both of them breathing heavily. "No," said Basch, throwing Anya an apologetic glance, "I should…return to preparing our equipment for the journey to come."

"You should," Anya nodded, a hand clutched at her racing heart.

"Good day, Vaan," said Basch, patting the boy on the shoulder, and picked up the equipment sack. "Anya."

Anya waved him goodbye and watched him disappear with a sigh. Vaan waited for Basch to close the door behind him before he removed his hand from his face, the horrified expression it carried fading into self-satisfied pomposity.

"So," he started, "you and Basch, huh? I gotta say, he's gone a long way from being just a pillow…"

Anya glowered at him, but she couldn't say a thing.

"It's okay," said Vaan, giving her a brief thumb up. "It was pretty obvious he liked you back, anyway. And he's a good guy. Even if he is pretty old…"

"That doesn't matter," Anya said, so exasperated that Vaan thought she'd made this argument a million times. "He's so kind, Vaan. And he makes me laugh, and he protects me, and I—"

Anya cut herself off. Vaan was smirking.

"And I love him," she finished. "I do."

"I knew it!" Vaan laughed, pumping his free fist in the air. "It's funny. Basch has to get Balthier's approval, even if he's way older than him. Hahaha!"

Anya's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Vaan!" she remembered, "You mustn't tell anyone about this. Not even Penelo. If Balthier were to discover this…he would kill Basch. And I don't mean that figuratively."

Vaan scratched the back of his head sheepishly, remembering the time in the _Strahl_ when Balthier hadn't allowed Fran or Anya to room with him. "Should it scare me that I can see that happening? But sure, I won't tell anyone. That's what friends are for."

"Yes…" Anastacia liked the sound of that. "Friends." The happiness she felt, knowing the boy now – it was the happiness she felt when she and Rasler used to play together. He would never replace Rasler, but she treasured Vaan's company, insensitive and ill-mannered though he was. He was like another brother she never had. Rasler would have liked him.

"Like I was saying," Vaan continued, "don't feel bad about Basch being old or anything. I mean, Balthier isn't even half Fran's age and they're a couple, right?"

Anya snorted in amusement. "You've a point there, Vaan. But…perhaps I should tell you that it is always inappropriate to ask a woman for her age."

"I know," Vaan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face when he remembered his dumb mistake that morning. "I already apologized to Fran for that when Larsa told me. Here are the peaches you wanted."

He handed her three enormous peaches, one of which Anya sunk her teeth into. She grinned toothily, the juice dripping from the side of her lip. "Thanks!"

"Although I'm sure you already got something _else_ you wanted…"

"What was that, Vaan?"

"Nothing," Vaan smirked again. "I should go. Basch is probably waiting outside again – wouldn't want you to miss him too much…"

Anya crossed her arms. The peach had given her a brilliant idea. "You're so considerate, Vaan," she said, her eyes glimmering with mischief that rivaled his, and Vaan had a feeling he shouldn't have said anything. "So you should go as well. I wouldn't want Penelo to miss you too much."

Vaan's jaw fell for the second time that day. "Anya!"

"What?" she smiled innocently. "Nobody knows why you deny it, Vaan. It's clear that Penelo is attracted to you, and you know you feel something."

"Yeah," Vaan scoffed, trying not to let her words sink in too deep. "The feeling someone has for their friend! Why do I have to keep repeating myself?"

"I've seen your face when she pays more attention to Larsa. And the way you embraced her on the Leviathan…" she emulated Penelo's lovesick sighs in their tent in the Ozmone. "Just the thought sends me swooning!"

Vaan squinted his eyes at her in sheer aggravation. "She was kidnapped! I was just relieved! You were the one who was all touchy with Basch when we rescued you and Ashe!"

"And I've admitted that I feel something for Basch – so why can't you, for Penelo?"

Vaan grabbed at his own hair. She was never going to shut up… "Because!"

Anya leaned closer. "Because?"

"Because she thinks I'm an idiot, okay?" Vaan yelled, the images of Penelo sending him disgusted grimaces all throughout their journey playing through his head. "Even if you say I'm not and Basch calls me profound, it doesn't matter as long as she thinks I'm dumber than some mine beast. And – and I can't even talk to her about it because…because then she'll know that it hurts when she says it and then she'll know."

"She'll know…"

"That I like her," Vaan sighed, first as though a heavy burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders, and then as if an even heavier one was dropped as compensation. "There, I've said it. I've been trying to keep it a secret since I realized it last night, even from Larsa, but you're just so persistent. Happy?"

"Well, yes," Anya replied, failing to understand Vaan's dilemma. He thought it was hard to keep his secret for a _day_? Anastacia wondered how he'd feel about keeping his death a secret for two years and counting, even from the person she loved. "You should tell her, Vaan. It's obvious she likes you back."

Vaan rolled his eyes. "It's not that easy, okay? You and Basch can just admit whatever you feel for each other. If you don't end up getting married, he can just keep on looking for ways to liberate Dalmasca and you can keep on being a pirate. But if things don't work out between me and Penelo, we'll still be stuck with each other in Rabanastre forever. I'll lose my best friend. And I'd rather like her secretly and have her as a best friend than have her once and lose her forever."

Anya tilted her head curiously at the boy before her. When had he grown up like this? Had he always thought this way? "That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard from you, Vaan," she said, her hands tingling in Penelo's place. "If Penelo only knew…"

"You can't tell her!" Vaan gasped, clamping a hand over Anya's mouth. "I'm keeping your secret, so you have to keep mine!"

Anya removed his still sticky hand from her mouth. "I _know_, Vaan. You can trust me. We are friends, aren't we?"

Vaan took deep breaths and regained his composure. "Yeah." He looked guilty for a moment. "Yeah, I know I can trust you, Anya."

Anya's heart soared. It felt good – earning someone's trust.

**XIIXIIXII**

Shortly after dinner in their assigned tree houses, the party dispersed. Anya was still in what Ashe thought to be the infirmary, Fran and Balthier had disappeared as usual, and Penelo continued her conversation about Viera magick with Larsa.

Ashe walked through the Viera village, illuminated a pale yellow by the natural light of a million fireflies. On her way to the infirmary, she caught sight of Vaan sitting stooped against the branch of a tree. If he wasn't a boy with Hume ears, she might have thought him a short Viera, based on the brooding expression on his face. He had been oddly quiet during dinner. Ashe wondered what troubled him so, but even with their common sentiments towards the Archadian Empire and Vayne Solidor, he had taken to Anya more, the way Penelo had taken to her.

"Hello, Vaan," she called him anyway.

Vaan glanced up, his eyebrows still furrowed. She was very curious about what was on his mind. But she had a task, and she wouldn't be deterred from it, least of all by herself. "Hey, Ashe," he greeted, attempting to fix a smile onto his face. It worked to an extent. "Did you need some time to think, too?"

"…We all need time to think," she replied. "Have you seen Basch?"

Vaan laughed wryly. "He probably went back to the tree house to visit Anya." And then, apparently realizing the gravity of his words, he added, "Oh, but because he's such a nice guy, y'know? He'd do this for everyone. Sometimes I think he's way too good for his…own good. Right?"

Ashe nodded with a raised eyebrow. He was stumbling for his words because…? He was trying to cover up for them, wasn't he? He seemed to have become very good friends with Anya, as she had with Penelo. Ashe didn't want to interrogate him while he seemed so dejected, however, so she decided to go straight to the source. "Thank you, Vaan."

With a distant wave, she made her way to the infirmary just in time to meet Basch, who had taken another path to shake off anyone who might have been following him, like Balthier or Fran. He didn't expect Ashe.

Basch smiled, but he was clearly disappointed to see her. "Lady Ashe. Have you come to…visit Anya?"

"Come with me," she said, and started for a place far away from the infirmary. Basch followed, his suddenly stiff posture reminding Ashe of a soldier about to be reprimanded and perhaps he was. When they reached a clearing with few Viera, she spoke. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Pardon me?"

"I know of your relationship with Anya."

"Ah. I see."

"You don't look surprised."

Basch gave another irritating smile. She didn't know how he could pretend to be so innocent. She didn't know that he was praying to Faram, either, with all his might, praying that she would not spread this news to anyone. "You have always been bright, Lady Ashe. I knew you would realize it soon."

Ashe scoffed. "And what do you plan to do when we've freed Dalmasca? Are you truly of the belief that Anya will settle down and stay with you? Or that Balthier will let you join their crew based solely on your little infatuation?"

"It is not infatuation," said Basch, and Ashe hated how he looked so calm and justified. She hated how his words mirrored Ktjn's so perfectly. She hated how Anya loved him back, and Vossler hadn't loved her. "It is—"

_Love_, Basch would have said, just like Ktjn, but she interrupted him. "I don't care what you think it is," she said. "But I wonder if my father was right to suggest you as the choice for Anastacia's betrothed when you think so little of the future ahead!"

Finally, Basch frowned. "That is unfair, princess." Though Ashe could see the hurt in his features, she made no apologies. "Lady Anastacia has perished. I, too, mourn her death. But I cannot weep to the melancholy her memory brings forever."

"And it is so easy for you to throw her memory aside, isn't it? As though you were never arranged to wed!"

"You are unjust," said Basch, his voice rising. "I was always there. I was always waiting, and yet all I was granted was an introduction before Lord Rasler's death!"

"Don't you speak of Rasler…"

"I will speak of Lord Rasler," said Basch, though he knew he would be apologizing for this later. "Lord Rasler agreed that Lady Anastacia and I be given time to know each other well before the wedding. But King Perraen and King Raminas – Faram bless their souls – and you… You insisted that Her Highness would react better to a surprise wedding in her honor because she would find the bond better as a _game_ than a duty, because she was too young, too innocent to be informed that she even _had_ a fiancé. And perhaps you were right. But I will not be blamed for this."

Ashe's face burned. She hadn't expected him to throw that little piece of truth back at her. But it was true – Anastacia would have fought against the thought of being tied down. Had the wedding been a surprise, she would have at least taken it as a game of some sort, not a duty she was forced to prepare for. She knew her sister-in-law better than anyone.

"Lady Ashe…" Basch sighed. "Anya was a servant at Castle Nabudis. She knew the prince and remembers him fondly, remembers _you_ fondly – and that is why the thought of you falling in love with another man, even one as honorable as Vossler struck her so. But we do not doubt that you loved – and still love – Lord Rasler. He is now in Faram's care, however. You aren't forbidden to love, Majesty. And neither am I."

Ashe sighed. He always managed to be the calm one in arguments, even those with her father and Rasler. She didn't know why she'd even tried to win this one. It was as if she wanted Basch's permission – Basch, who had become one of Rasler's closest confidantes – to let go of Rasler and move on. Anya's words had struck her deep, but Basch knew Rasler better, didn't he? "All right," she said, refusing to acknowledge that he was right again outright. "Then you really do love Anya?"

"I do."

So resolute. Just like Ktjn. But that wasn't his fault.

"Fine," she said. "But try to keep your romance to a minimum. If not for Anastacia, then for Anya. I've no clue why Balthier hasn't figured it out yet given your transparency, but you might want to wait until he is ready to let her go until you reveal yourselves."

"Thank you, Majesty," said Basch with another smile, inwardly thanking Faram.

Ashe wanted to rip it off his face, but she tried not to think about it. Basch was a friend, after all, almost like an older brother again. If only he didn't act like a lovesick puppy. She should have been taking advice from him, not the other way around. With an acknowledging harrumph, the princess returned to her tree house.

* * *

So...what did you think? I know there's a review reply button now, but in case some questions are asked regarding the plot, I'll just answer them so everyone sees 'em :D

**Nameless-Sinner: **I love Supinelu too! Actually my favorite Garif had to be Kadalu, who was cool even after Supinelu caused him to relinquish the title of War-Chief. I love wise old dude types :)) Heeee I'm so glad you liked the last part of the previous chapter :" that was my favorite (obviously, hahaha)! Also yes part of Basch's huge appeal was his voice =))

**Tamuril Telrunye**: Ashe was planning to give them a hard time, yeah, but Basch is such a smooth talker when he needs to be. You can see why she's bitter though, I mean, Anya was the one talking about how she shouldn't move on yet because of Rasler and there she is romancing Basch when he shouldn't forget either. :)) Hope this chapter cleared that up ;D

**Black Claided Cat**: Yep, Anya has sandy blonde hair just like Rasler. When they first met, people were under the impression that she actually had red hair, but after the events on the Leviathan, they figured it out it was only a wig (what with the pin she used to pick through their chains) and it became common knowledge that she just wore wigs for some reason. The party (besides Fran and Balthier) also figure that the color of her eyes are magicked up, since the green is too unnatural, but since she wears wigs they just figure it's another sky pirate quirk of hers. Thanks for asking a question! And I'm happy you like the story :)

**krupathing**: CONTINUED! :D

**Yiazmat**: Heyyyy! I'm just glad to hear from you again :)) Also, wow, thank you! 0_0 I'm so honored to have you say that. I loved that Urutan-Yensa in the game, I was so sad when they killed him off for asking for help :( I'm really glad you've taken to Anya and like all the extra stuff because I loved writing those parts! Although the Tomb of Raithwall part was extremely difficult to write :)) Hope this one was up to your standards as well.

**Ye**: Thank you very much! :)

**Triade**: I agree about the Garif, they shoulda gotten more screen time (as well as Basch of course haha!), plus it's not just you with the OOCness. I read it again after reading your review. While writing that I was thinking that deviating from Basch's seriousness a little would be all right since Basch+romance wasn't really explored in the games, but I did deviate too much - thanks for pointing it out! I edited it, especially his movements and speech and I hope it's less OOC now. Thanks for your input! :D

**krupa360**: Hiiii! Thanks for reviewing, your review was the final straw that pushed me to finish the parts I needed to get done before posting this again :)

Again, thanks for reviewing, everyone! Please feel free to give input and ask questions. :)

REVIEW!

See you soon! I promise!


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary: Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget.**

Hey everyone...I have no excuse for my extreme delays. I just lost interest in the fic. But I'm trying to get my groove back on, and I hope you can someday forgive me for just leaving this all of a sudden :( But anyway! Today the party finally gets its collective butt to Mount Bur-Omisace! Things will go down.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 14**

"Must you leave?" Mjrn asked, holding Fran's arm in a tight grip the next morning. Ashe and Anya had finally finished recuperating and the rest of the party was ready to leave.

Fran removed her sister's hand from her person and shocked everyone by enveloping her in a small embrace. "This is the last we shall of each other, Mjrn," she said truthfully. "I pray that you are happy. Obey Jote…for both our sakes."

Mjrn withheld her tears, knowing it would benefit neither of them to see her sorrow. "I pray you stay safe as well, Fran," she said, refraining from calling her 'sister'. "And your Humes, too. They are good people."

Fran agreed with a smile, but lifted her head at the familiar vision approaching them. Jote.

"I have come to see that you leave – for good," said the eldest of the three sisters. Fran and Mjrn knew it was the only way she could say goodbye without breaking the laws of the Wood. It was as close as she'd ever gotten to rebellion, and the two felt their hearts swell with pride.

"A last request: listen to the Wood's voice for me," Fran pleaded softly. "I fear – I fear She hates."

The wind picked up around Jote again as the sun burned into the village exit. When she was finished listening, Jote opened her eyes. "The Wood longs for you. For the child from under Her boughs."

Fran gave a wry smile in reply. "A pleasant lie, that." She turned to the party and motioned that it was finally time to start moving again.

Jote spoke before she could take a step further. "Be cautious." She eyed Balthier and Anya. "The Wood is jealous of the Humes who have taken you."

Fran accepted this without hesitation. "I am as them now…am I not?"

Jote found it a harder task, but she nodded all the same. "Goodbye, Fran."

"Goodbye, sister."

The eight departed somberly. As soon as they stepped off the secret path, they found that they could no longer look upon the tunnel that led to the sunlit village. Fran and Balthier fell to the back of their formation.

"I know where it leads, now," Fran said to her partner, her voice soft.

Balthier glanced at her and knew she'd remembered all her sorrows again. He knew this would happen. This was why the past was to be forgotten. "Fran?"

"In Rabanastre, you said you were not chasing the past. You said you only wished to see where it leads," said Fran, refreshing his memory.

"Ah, yes…"

"Heartache," she said, looking ahead. She feared she might buckle if she looked into his eyes. "It leads only to heartache."

Leading the party towards the barrier that hindered them before, meanwhile, was an unnaturally cheerful Vaan. After his talk with Ashe, he had taken to convincing himself that everything was fine, he certainly didn't like Penelo, and things were _not_ awkward between him and his best friend even if she was beautiful and talented and would probably make a good, intelligent man happy some day. No, he didn't care about those things. He was too busy thinking of ways to save Dalmasca with Ashe, no time for distracting romance like Basch and Anya, nope, no thanks.

Penelo walked in between Ashe and Anya. She asked the latter, "Is Vaan okay? He's been acting weird since he gave you those peaches."

Anya shrugged, though she felt somewhat guilty. If she hadn't prodded Vaan into admitting his crush, he wouldn't be acting this way. Then again, he would have kept it a secret forever, and that might have even been worse. Wouldn't it? "I think it might have been the fruits. Perhaps he ate too many?" Then again, Basch barely ate anything in the village and he'd been avoiding her since the sun rose, for some reason.

"But Larsa stuffed himself full, too."

"True…I don't know. Perhaps you should ask Larsa, then."

Ashe watched Vaan take furtive glances at Penelo as she spoke with Anya. She had a feeling that Anya had done to Vaan what she had done to Penelo in Jahara, and that the pirate girl received the same reaction. For the boy's sake, the princess kept her theories to herself.

Larsa was too busy doing a victory dance with Vaan to speak with Penelo, however, since Lente's Tear had caused the barrier to disappear and they were finally able to pass. Even so, their happiness was short-lived. Only half an hour had passed when they were forced to face another Wyrm.

It happened in a clearing filled with short grass and tall, deformed rocks so old that plants and flowers grew thick on the surface. Vaan had just stopped to point and laugh with Larsa about how the rocks made the shape of a sleeping dragon with a flower on what resembled its nose when a fierce wind picked up, the rocks rose to life, and an actual dragon covered in grass swung its rocky tail at them with a roar that caused the very earth to quake.

"I can't help but think that this is Vaan's fault," Anya thought out loud.

"Hey!"

"I jest, of course," said the pirate, pulling him out of the way of the Wyrm's swinging tail. "But I do feel as if we're the unluckiest adventurers in the world."

"It must be because we are adventurers with a purpose," said Larsa somewhat lightly, popping out of a bush he dove into earlier. Vaan gingerly removed the flower that had positioned itself above the younger boy's ear. Had danger really become so natural that they no were no longer averse to laughing around before it? "The gods are giving us trials to strengthen us for the events to come."

Running past, Ashe frowned. "Haven't we been through enough already?"

"If we could stop chatting and figure out a way to defeat the Wyrm, we'll have been through more than enough to last us a lifetime!" Balthier yelled from the clearing. Fran had told him of this great dragon, only in her tale it was slumbering peacefully in its new home, the Golmore, instead of terrorizing adventurers with a purpose. He wouldn't have minded the lighthearted whining if it didn't affect his Viera partner so.

"Belias," said Anya, "Belias will do the—_oof_!"

The Elder Wyrm roared triumphantly as it succeeded in bludgeoning Anya with a violent swing. Luckily for the pirate, a part of her had seen it coming and held an item sack out to meet the rocky end of its tail, so most of the momentum had gone into hurtling her across the trees instead of hurting her.

"Anya!" Basch gasped, dropping the rest of the party's equipment with a stunned Larsa and Vaan, and ran after her into the jungle before Balthier could stop him. He found her slumped against the base of a tree. "Are you all right?" he asked, checking her arms, legs, and back for injuries.

She pushed him away with an irritated look. "Oh,_ now_ you're paying me mind? The Hume-sized leaves broke my fall. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to summon Belias!" Dumping the sack into his arms, Anya shoved herself forward and stumbled back into the fray.

Basch guiltily followed. He'd been keeping his distance this morning in an attempt to follow Ashe's advice. The princess was correct, after all. If he tried to spend any more time with Anya alone, Balthier would surely notice and kill them both. He hadn't meant to push her away. He should've discussed it with her earlier…but Balthier and Fran had slept with her in the infirmary that night and hovered over her all morning. He couldn't have gotten a word in without Balthier discovering everything.

When Anya found her way back to the clearing, Balthier had followed her example in the Henne mines and was holding on to the Elder Wyrm's wing for dear life.

Ashe ran to her with a tattooed hand outstretched, "Let us summon Belias!"

Anya nodded and positioned her tattoo beside Ashe's, but nothing happened. No flames, no materializing, no soul-jerking. She shook her head. "I don't understand…!"

"_YOU ARE TOO WEAK TO SUMMON ME,_" Belias said. "_REGAIN YOUR STRENGTH, AND SOON I SHALL AID YOU ONCE MORE._"

"We have recovered!" Ashe exclaimed. "We are fully capable of giving our energy to you. Belias!"

"_PERHAPS YOUR BODIES HAVE RESTED, BUT YOUR SOULS ARE STILL WEAK. SUMMONING ME NOW WOULD MEAN YOUR DEATHS,_" said Belias. "_I AM SORRY, MY LIEGES. YOU MUST FIND ANOTHER WAY TO DEFEAT THIS WYRM._"

"No…" Ashe watched Balthier's body tumble into the shrubs across them. Fran was nearly pummeled by the Wyrm's tail. Penelo, Vaan, and Larsa hid behind one of the trees, and Basch had only entered the clearing, looking just as helpless as the others. "There is no other way!"

"Stop!" screamed a familiar voice. "Stop this, please!"

Fran was so shocked that she did a double take. "Mjrn?"

"I followed you to make your safe departure certain," Mjrn explained, and then approached the Wyrm that had suddenly stopped. It glared down at her with its empty rock eyes, and the wind was furious all around. "Please…" she touched the Wyrm's mouth and pressed her head against it, ignoring Fran's warnings to stay away. "I have returned, Mother. I promise I will never leave you again… but please, allow Fran and her Humes to pass! You will have many more children who will stay and love you, as I do! As Jote does! Forgive your stray child this once and let her live, for the sake of the times long past when she gave you joy. Please, Mother!"

Fran seemed petrified. "Mother…?" she whispered. She knew…She knew Jote would not give her the truth if it would pain her. She knew. "She…hates me…"

The Wyrm roared again, and this time Penelo felt she could actually understand what it meant. The Wood was hurt; She had reared Fran and brought her up, and Fran repaid her by deserting her and consorting with Humes. In that aspect, maybe Fran was wrong. But Penelo knew about growing up and making choices – she'd been forced to do that quickly when her parents died – and Fran was living with her choice honorably.

"No," said Mjrn once the Wyrm settled down. "She hates the _Humes_. But She agrees…She agrees that for the sake of the days when you served her dutifully, you and your Humes may live. So leave!" Mjrn said, waving them away hurriedly. "Leave before She decides to make your Humes pay for taking you from us."

Balthier and Basch wasted no time, collecting their items and hurrying the younger members of their party along. Fran stayed behind a moment longer, taking one last look at her baby sister. "Thank you, Mjrn. Goodbye."

Mjrn couldn't help the tears that fell past her cheeks. "Goodbye, sister," she called out, trembling. "Do not forget me."

"Never," Fran promised, and followed her Hume companions without looking back, leaving Mjrn to weep with the Wood. When she reached the party, Penelo was casting rounds of Cura.

"I don't get it," Vaan said, scratching his head, "why would they call that dragon Mother?"

"The Elder Wyrm shares body and soul with the Wood," Fran explained, coming up from behind them. Everyone jumped in surprise, still shaken by how they barely escaped with their lives, but waited for her to continue. "She carried out Her will through the Wyrm."

"Then it was a good thing we weren't able to summon Belias," said Anya. "Otherwise the Wood might have sent more creatures after us."

"If we hadn't summoned him in the Henne mines, we might not have had such a difficult time," Ashe remarked. "Belias might have been able to reason with something as ancient as the Wood."

Anya narrowed her eyes at the princess. "If we hadn't summoned Belias in the Henne mines, we wouldn't have even had the chance to face the Elder Wyrm."

"Perhaps," said Ashe. "But given a little more time, we may have been able to think of _some_thing. Your jumping in the air and cleaving my sword down at it – done numerous times – for example, may have done the trick. We shouldn't have acted so rashly."

Anya rubbed a hand over her face irately. She wasn't having a good morning. First Basch was distant, and now she was being blamed for thinking of a way to save them from being crushed by a dragon in the Henne mines? "Your sword barely fazed it! It roared in anger, then, not pain! I can't believe you're blaming me for this!"

Ashe frowned. "I'm not blaming you, Anya—"

"Anya," said Basch, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze to diffuse the tension, "perhaps we might all decide as a group, next time, when the right time to summon Belias truly is."

Anya removed his hand from her person. His distance this morning and his attempt at calming her now only fueled her anger. "No, the decision was to be made quickly! If Ashe had such qualms, then perhaps she should have done better to stop us from summoning Belias. You weren't there, Basch, _you_ wouldn't understand!"

With that, she stalked off into the trees. Fran and Balthier followed without a word, and the others who were left with Basch gnawed awkwardly on their lower lips.

"Maybe that was a bad move," Vaan said – coming from him, it really must have been – and left with Larsa.

Penelo and Ashe grimaced for him. The latter said, "When I advised you to keep your distance, I meant for you to do it only in Balthier's presence. I hadn't actually meant for you to get her angry."

"I know," Basch replied, gritting his teeth in frustration. He had never upset anyone in this manner. He had always known what to do, what to say, when. Why was it that when it came to her, he was utterly clueless?

**XIIXIIXII**

The party continued past the Golmore Jungle and into the Paramina Rift silently, each member brimming with frustration. Fran once again at the loss of her sisters; Anya at the fact that Basch hadn't taken her side of the argument; Ashe at the thought of making peace with her father's murderer without retribution; Penelo at Vaan's awkwardness towards her; Basch at his own foolishness, Vaan at his own realization that caused him to think of Penelo in such a different way; Balthier at the thought of facing his own past; and Larsa at the silence that had overcome the party.

The freezing Paramina Rift did nothing to cool their heads. If anything, it only furthered their irritation, as the winds blew harshly and the falling snow wisped into their eyes more often than sand.

The snow angered Larsa the most. A senator had compared him to snow once – and he'd been pleased, because Vayne said snow was a gift from the heavens and that Father absolutely loved it. That was behind the safe walls of the palace. Now that he'd actually seen real snow he knew that it was white, pure, innocent, yes, but only until it touched the ground, and then it was as soiled as the rest of its brethren.

Soiled…perhaps to the people. He would never forget the look on Penelo's face when she first learned that he was a Solidor. Disbelief, fear, contempt – when he was a child, all he could associate with the name was honor. Those were his days of purity and innocence. In the castle, the Judge Magisters were all smiles. Gabranth and Drace he knew were genuinely his friends – but he saw Ghis' condescension in Bhujerba, and Vaan had told him of the man's greed on the Leviathan, the greed that cost him his life.

People feared his Empire. They feared it and hated it and wanted nothing to do with it – Vaan preferred the company of sky pirates to Imperials, telling Larsa he was an exception because he was his friend and a rare type of Archadian, one that actually respected those from other nations and didn't 'attempt to beat him with a stick'. The thought horrified Larsa. He had never been to Rabanastre, but could his people there really be so cruel?

Seeing the world now as he did, knowing how the Empire was, knowing what his own family had done – was he soiled, now, as his people? He didn't want to be looked upon with hatred, but he didn't want to return to his blissful ignorance. Larsa didn't want to be snow before or after it fell. He wanted to be hope – a hope for a change in his people, a hope for peace between the Empires and Dalmasca. And so Larsa lifted his spirits by deciding that he would be hope.

His high spirits again were short-lived. As they trudged through the mountains of snow, dreary without even a hint of sunlight, they came upon refugees on their way to Bur-Omisace. Their group had stopped to rest, they said, because they had been traveling for weeks to escape the Archadian territory that was once Landis and find sanctuary with the Gran Kiltias. Ashe had taken pity on them and asked the pirates to give them their extra equipment, their extra footwear, because the travelers walked so long and so far that their own shoes had already given way. Extremely grateful, the travelers offered to share their meals with the party, but Fran refused, saying it was better that they cover as much ground as possible so as to reach Bur-Omisace soon.

When the travelers were out of sight, Balthier clicked his tongue. "Empires parade down city streets, while refugees walk barefoot through the snow."

Larsa didn't like his accusatory tone, but it couldn't be helped with the man, he knew. "And so I sue for peace to stop short war and ease their suffering," he replied, meeting Balthier straight in the eye. "My father will choose peace."

Balthier quirked a challenging brow. "Will he now?" In the pirate's opinion, Emperor Gramis had never been worse than Vayne Solidor, but that didn't make him a good man. "You sound sure of yourself. You can never know another, even your father."

Larsa was left to reflect on that statement, and as soon as he got to thinking on whether it was true or not, he shook his head. He couldn't doubt his own father – soiled though his name was to the rest of the world. His father was a good man. Otherwise, what was his youngest son?

Vaan caught the effect Balthier's words had on his friend and approached him apologetically, in Balthier's place. "Don't take it the wrong way, okay? If you say your dad will listen to you, maybe he will."

He was grateful for Vaan's comfort. Vaan had told him about how his parents died, and how the Imperials stuffed them all into Rabanastre's Lowtown when they occupied Dalmasca, and yet he believed in Larsa. The young prince couldn't let his friend down – he couldn't even let Balthier down. Why else would the pirate tag along if he didn't think there was hope in his efforts?

"Thank you, Vaan."

Vaan looked down at him with a grin. "Sure thing."

"So…" Larsa began cautiously, "Are you feeling unwell? Penelo was asking if—"

"I'm fine," Vaan said too suddenly. "Totally fine."

Studying him from behind an accepting countenance, Larsa understood that he wouldn't talk soon. That was all right. He had much time to further his friendship with everyone. He had hope, and had he known what would happen in the following days, perhaps he would have known that he had given himself too much of it.

**XIIXIIXII**

There was a path through the Rift where two mountains converged to form an awning that freed the ground of snow. The air below was generally warmer, and it was there that Fran and Balthier decided they would set up camp for the evening.

By this time they had agreed to partner up for shifts, so that no one would fall asleep (Vaan scratched his head sheepishly at that one) or, in the case that one of them did want to sleep, another would be ready to stay on till the shift's end. First went Fran and Balthier. They sat outside the tents, poking at a healthy bonfire and generally enjoying each other's company. Fran went to sleep earlier, and when their shift was over, Balthier woke Penelo and Ashe.

Ashe had initially nudged Penelo in Vaan's direction when choosing shifts, but upon catching her eye, all Vaan could do was stutter incoherently and turn to Larsa. Anya, still not on speaking terms with Basch and understanding the urgent expression on Ashe's face, said she'd wanted to take a shift with the prince. Characteristically indignant with her pride shattered, Penelo chose Ashe. Vaan imagined that he would trust Basch too much and fall asleep within the first quarter of an hour and asked Anya to take a shift with him. With Penelo choosing to affect indifference and realizing that being in Larsa's presence alone would probably only trigger her own decreasingly dormant anger, Anastacia agreed. Basch was left in the last shift with Larsa.

"I hate boys," Penelo said after their first hour of sleepy silence.

Yawning and renewing the bonfire, Ashe nodded. "Men are no better. Especially not politicians."

"We should have a Viera type society," Penelo decreed. "Where men are only present when necessary. Then things wouldn't be so complicated. Besides, women are much less conniving than power-hungry men."

"Not so. Rozarrian noblewomen are infamous for their schemes," Ashe grinned sluggishly. "In any case, were you to birth a male child, he would be taken away from you immediately."

"That would be terrible," Penelo gasped, and the two kept themselves awake discussing endless possibilities of alternate societies until their shift ended. Penelo slept first, and Ashe went to wake Anya and Vaan.

For their first hour, Anya and Vaan stared at each other. Whenever their eyes began to droop, they pointed at each other threateningly and sat erect, snorting at each other drowsily.

Vaan smacked his lips together repeatedly as if he'd just awakened. "This wasn't a good idea."

"Not very," Anya agreed. "Although my sleep was rather frequently interrupted to begin with."

Vaan scrutinized her droopy eyes and her shoulders, weighed down, and listened for the sigh that came with almost every breath. "Why don't you just talk to Basch?"

"He's angry with me for being so unreasonable," Anya said. "I just know it. I can't even recall why I was so angry—I know Ashe wasn't blaming me outright. She was only speaking the truth."

"So…what's the problem?" Vaan focused on the bonfire, but it only made him sleepier. Anya's shifting facial expressions kept him awake, though. Made him think of Penelo and how stupid he was and he should really be focusing on their conversation. "If you're sorry, go tell 'im."

"I don't want him to think of me as an immature child," Anya mumbled, even though she knew she'd been petulant and silly. "Perhaps if I can make it to Bur-Omisace on my own, he'll no longer see me as a little girl. What do you think?"

"Anya." Vaan sighed. He couldn't take this anymore. A few more seconds and he would drop dead with fatigue. He used to be able to stay up until forever, but ever since that night in Jahara, it was as if his body had decided to acquire enough rest every night, no matter the circumstance. "Basch is the nicest guy I know. If you say sorry, he'll forgive you. No running off required."

Anya thought of the times Vaan had tackled Basch and Balthier had made fun of him and Ashe had spoken down to him, and how he still saw them as friends and treated them with respect. "You're right, Vaan," she said, slapping a hand on her forehead. "What am I being silly for? When I wake him for his shift, I'll—"

"That's great, Anya. But I can't take this anymore," Vaan said, standing up with his hands raised in front of him.

"Vaan?"

"I'm so tired," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Do you mind if I go to sleep?"

"Oh," Anya yawned at the same time. "Yes, I did figure you'd be asleep already. Go ahead, Vaan."

"Thanks," Vaan said, the most energized he'd been since he woke, and dove back into his tent with Larsa and Basch.

Anya was wide awake now, preparing her speech for when she woke Basch. She would wake him gently, and as soon as he came to his senses she would apologize and embrace him so he wouldn't be able to push her away. Yes, that would do the trick. Pleased with her plan, Anya unsheathed her dagger and began to toss it and catch it in mid-air, exactly the way Balthier hated it.

She was recording the number of times she could do it consecutively when she felt something tap her back. Warily, she caught her dagger in the air and spun, ready to attempt to slice through whatever had surprised her, but it was only a Wild Onion staring up at her with its round, yellow eye.

"Hello," she said, knowing the mandragora was docile, and patted its shiny russet head. She was about to tell it to run along when she realized that the hand she'd touched its stem with was the hand that was holding her dagger. When she was finally aware, another Wild Onion had already taken her precious weapon and run in the opposite direction. Giving her a victorious cackle, the mandragora that had distracted her darted off, too.

"Hey!" shouted Anya, forcing herself off her seat and running after the little monsters, only to stop and realize that there was no one keeping watch over the tents. She wanted to wake Vaan, but if she wasted any more time thinking, the Wild Onions would get away! And she'd spent a lot of time sharpening that dagger in the Eruyt Village infirmary…

The snow seemed thicker in the night (even when it was almost morning), but she could see the light the moon reflected off her dagger and used it as a marker. That and the Wild Onions were so gleeful about their victory over a Hume that she could have followed their chortles from the other side of the mountain.

Although, she wished she didn't have to, and as though the fates took pity on her that morning, a tall figure lumbering in the snow caught the Wild Onion by the neck and lifted it up in the air. Its partner squeaked in fear and ran away. The mandragora caught by the figure – she couldn't really see – slashed at him with the dagger, only to hit him with its blunt end.

The figure cried out not so much in pain, but in frustration. "Damned mandragora!" he cursed, taking the dagger from the walking plant, and dropped it in the snow, allowing it to escape. "Where a little beast like that found a weapon, I can't even wager…"

Anastacia could recognize that gruff, raspy voice anywhere – Adela did, at least. Walking closer to the figure, she imagined the orange Bangaa skin and saw the silhouette of his long, snarky snout, and it was all she could do not to tackle him excitedly. Anastacia felt as though she hadn't pretended to be Adela for so long that she actually missed the people Adela associated with in Rabanastre.

"Monid!" she gasped, waving at him as she approached. "Monid, what are you doing here?"

The Bangaa gave her a once-over and raised an eyebrow ridge. "Who might you be?"

"That's my dagger, thank you," Anya said in reply, snatching it from his hand. Those Wild Onions really had no business thieving from a thief. She couldn't help but grin despite the heavy snow. "And it's me, Monid! What are you doing here?"

"Hunting," he replied distractedly, taking in her features once more. She was in thick fur pants and a fur jacket that covered her head, and from under her hood he could see dark hair. He didn't know anybody like that. A clan member admiring him from afar, maybe? No, he didn't really have any fans… "Hunting a dangerous Mark, mind you. Ever heard of the Trickster?"

"No," said Anya, rather disappointed by how he didn't recognize her. "Now, Monid—"

"It's very dangerous," he said, holding a hand out to the sky. The snow was getting thicker, and the rift was picking up a blizzard. Anya wondered how he could stay warm with just a poncho and trousers. "You should leave here now, little girl."

Anya crossed her arms, forgetting all about the campsite. "For your information, Monid, in the matter of a single day, I've faced two Wyr" – a flash of white sped behind Monid – "What was that? Did you see that? It was—"

"The Trickster!" Monid exclaimed, shoving Anya forward. He drew the axe strapped to his back and looked around warily, his feet disappearing as the snow piled up on them. "I told you to leave, little girl! Now the Trickster will be hunting us both!"

Anya got up and dusted the snow off her sleeves and pants, scoffing indignantly, but peeked out from behind Monid's back cautiously, her small blade drawn up to her face. "I thought _you_ were hunting the Trickster?"

Before Monid could answer, he felt the wind hiss behind him. There was an ear-piercing shriek high in the air, and when he turned, the Trickster was just about ready to swallow him.

**XIIXIIXII**

Basch woke up when it was already late into the morning. So late, he figured, that he felt extremely well-rested and Balthier was shouting frantically outside. How had he missed his shift? Was Balthier angry with Larsa for it? He couldn't allow the boy to take the cudgels for it all by himself.

Outside, the air was crisp and there were no snowflakes in sight. A third of its way to the top of the sky, the sun shone brightly, but it gave little heat.

"What happened?" It seems Balthier was already calming down. The pirate had a hand clasped over his face. "Vaan, weren't _you_ sitting watch with her?"

"Yeah, supposedly before sunrise," Vaan said, almost trembling, but he didn't. Beside him, Larsa looked to be in contemplative panic, and Basch could see none of the women. "But I slept an hour into the shift. Anya said it was okay—"

Balthier interrupted him with a groan and shifted his irritation to Basch when he caught sight of the man. "Oh, good _morning_, Captain," he said sardonically, "how wonderful to see you finally up and about!"

"What is happening?" asked Basch, "Where are the others?"

"Her scent has been obscured by the snow. And blood," said Fran, trudging into the campsite. Wearing her jacket and thick trousers, she hardly looked like the lithe Viera she was. She herself felt as if the cold dulled her senses, and even after her hardest to clear them she still found nothing. At Balthier's alarmed expression, she added, "But it was not her blood."

"Then whose was it?" asked her partner.

"It was the blood of a rare white Chocobo," Penelo answered, using her staff as a walking stick in the tall snow. Ashe waded through it all behind her, carrying a pile of white and yellow feather plumes. The princess took one for herself and dropped the rest before the others. "It must've been four times bigger than the usual kind!"

"And deceased for at least three hours," said Fran. "Her scent on the Chocobo was strong, but past that the trail disappears completely. It is impossible to trace footsteps in this pass."

"Most of the feathers had already been plucked off the Chocobo," said Ashe. "For loot, perhaps? There is hope."

"What…" Basch glanced at the feathers, and then to the rest of his companions. "Anya is missing? Where did she—"

"And now that you're up to speed," said Balthier, "we can discuss our next course of action. Fran?"

The Viera shrugged, completely at a loss. "Ashe may be right… Anya is of the habit of taking feathers."

"But from a Chocobo four times the usual size?" In front of Balthier, Basch hid the distress gnawing away at him. "Anya is a thief. She is barely a fighter."

Balthier nodded. "Too true. There isn't a chance she could have defeated such a beast on her own."

Penelo analyzed the feather in her fingers. "So you think she had help?"

"It is possible," said Fran. "The wound that caused its death was a great one. An axe might have dealt such a mighty blow."

"But why – why would she involve herself in such a battle?" Basch asked. She might have left their campsite to dance, but not to fight. "Especially when she is tasked with guarding the tents?"

Penelo sighed, tossing the feather aside. "If Vaan just stayed awake—"

"She said I could sleep!" Vaan frowned. "How was I supposed to know she was going to run off with an axe murderer?"

"Nobody said it was an axe murderer," Larsa piped in.

"There are _no_ axe murderers in the Paramina Rift," Balthier said in a tone that said he hoped to believe it himself soon. "And how are we sure she ran off at all?"

"Maybe she was kidnapped," Vaan suggested.

Balthier scoffed. "By _what_?"

"I don't know… Urutan-Paramina?"

"I apologize, but that just might have been the silliest thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up, Larsa! I don't see you coming up with anything."

Larsa crossed his arms. Perhaps he'd be able to think if they weren't so chatty. "She could have been kidnapped by those who took the Chocobo's life. It could have been Ba'gamnan."

Fran and Balthier turned to him with something resembling outrage. Was he wrong to suggest it? "Impossible," Fran decided. "Ba'gamnan's only weapon is the Ba'gangsaw. His siblings wield no axes."

Balthier breathed easily with her words, but said, "If whoever this axe-wielder might be was out there fighting a giant Chocobo, he must have been a hunter. He has no business kidnapping little girls."

"Oh." Vaan appeared to have had an epiphany. "_Oh_."

"What?" Ashe asked impatiently.

"Last night, before I went to sleep…" Vaan glanced at Basch. They didn't need to know the whole truth to find Anya, right? But if she really did what he thought she did, then he was really beginning to worry. "Before I went to sleep, we were talking about something. And then she said that maybe if she got to Mount Bur-Omisace on her own, _no one_ would see her as a little girl anymore."

Ashe closed her eyes, wondering if Anya really was so stupid. "She didn't."

"That's what I remember," Vaan said. "But guys, if that's true, then who knows what's happened to her? I mean, with an axe-murderer loose in the rift—"

Balthier groaned. "There are no axe murderers in Paramina!"

"Okay, okay, but she can't have gotten there on her own on a dagger, right?"

Fran tilted her head thoughtfully. "And what if she has? Perhaps she is still on her way…but she is not a little girl."

Basch gaped at the Viera. "She brought no supplies with her – and the Yeti in these parts will be the end of a lone traveler careless enough to cross them, little or not."

"She was _our_ shadow before she met you," said Fran, seeming to tower over him all of a sudden. "Anya knows to hide when she must. There are mandragora in the rift, easy to overcome and fit for consumption. If she is quick enough, she may reach Bur-Omisace."

"And if we're quick enough," said Balthier, "we just might intercept her."

Penelo and Larsa were packing as they spoke. Said the hopeful prince, tossing a sack to each man in the party, "Then let us fly."

**XIIXIIXII**

All Anya could remember was something pinching her jacket from behind and tossing her up, up, up into the air, so high she thought she was flying so fast that the wind was shrieking in her ears, until she realized that the screaming was coming from her own throat and she was falling, falling, falling…

Anastacia woke with a start. Her eyes must have been damaged, because they were seeing red, and then again they must have not, since she raised a hand to her face and could see her thief fingers wiggle hypnotically. Propping herself up, Anya felt a mat beneath her posterior and a hard, rocky surface on her left hand. She searched her surroundings for anything familiar.

A tent. The tent was red and so was the mat, and she could see the sunlight peeking from beneath it to breathe warmth onto her feet. Her feet? Her shoes were beside her, beside a crumpled piece of paper. Unfurling it, the girl read: "_Adela, I can tell your slimy, filthy little pilfering fingers anywhere. Have a care, child. —Monid_."

It is common knowledge that anybody who sleeps for almost half a day – a Hume especially – is bound to have a muddled mind as soon as she awakens. Anya was not an exception, and she wondered with a Vaan-like scratch of her head why Monid would write her a letter at this time. Had he stolen from her? No, her dagger was on the ground. (And now it was on her waist where it should have been.) She also pondered on the cool feeling of air breezing past the nape of her neck. And why she felt peculiar without a thick _Nanna_ jacket. It is also common knowledge that after asking herself a number of foolish questions after such an occasion, anybody is bound to have a rush of recent events crash ungracefully into her mind.

"Right." Anya smacked her lips together and rubbed her dry throat. There was not-flying, and before that Monid, and before that the accursed Wild Onions, and before that Vaan, and before that taking shifts. "Taking shifts!" she gasped, and turned herself over to crawl out of the tent, calling out, "_Amba_! _Tatah_! Basch! Are you there?"

The sudden flare of sunlight blinded Anya, who fell back with a grunt. As she moved to adjust her eyes to the light, ushering herself back into the tent, her hand knocked over a row of bottles. Water, she saw, and showed her great appreciation for whoever might have put it there by uncapping three and finishing them all with a series of uncouth _glug_s.

A hearty chuckle moved her to set her lips apart from her fourth bottle.

There was a man crouched at the entrance of the tent with relatively long soot hair and tanned skin. His shirt was unbuttoned over the top of his chest, revealing wavy hair that Anya's mind quickly decided she would make no comment on. He removed the sunglasses that obscured his baby blue eyes, depositing them somewhere outside the tent behind him, and flashed a confident smile.

"Hello, princess."

He moved and lifted her hand to touch his mouth, to which Anastacia responded by drawing her dagger and positioning it between his lips and the back of her palm. The man was unfazed, however, and pushed her hostile hand away from his face with a laugh.

Anya snatched both arms away and backed into the tent. "Who are _you_?"

"Ah—forgive me, princess," said the man with a thick Rozarrian accent, positioning himself on his knees and bowing. "Al-Cid Margrace – at long last, I have found you. I knew for certain that your death was all prevarication! That when the Marquis Ondore confessed to your suicide in his grand abode on the sky city, he had meant the death of your current whereabouts – you have been hiding in Rabanastre as a thief, have you not? Your Bangaa friend the hunter informed me—"

"You're a lunatic," was the first thing Anastacia could bring herself to say. How had he, a person she had never before known in her life, come to know the secret not even Supinelu was privy to? The first thing to do, Balthier had said before, was to deny everything outright. "One moment. Did you say you were a Margrace? Of Rozarria's ruling House?"

Al-Cid bowed again. "Once fifth in line for the throne; now third. The crown is a terrifying prospect to me, so you need not worry, water lily."

"I'm not a flower," said Anya, "and I am not a princess. How am I sure you aren't an impostor?"

Al-Cid nonchalantly held out the crest of the House of Margrace on his neck. Anya had seen it before, when Fran and Balthier returned with their copy of a glorified receipt from the Emperor of Rozarria. "Impossible – that you are not my princess," he said so surely, even Balthier would have almost thought it pointless to argue. But pirates were very good at the art of denial. "Your hair – it may be short now, but it is still the color of the whitest sands. Only the Nabradian royal family had such tones. And I know. I know the shape of your face. I know it is you, Anastacia."

"No!" Anya gave him a heated look, though her hands were going cold. "How would you even—" she touched her neck. It was bare. The top of her head felt breezy. Her wig must have come off when she was not-flying, and Monid must have discarded it.

Al-Cid's knowing smile was infuriating. "You are Princess Anastacia."

"You are a deranged prince," Anya insisted in return. "How would you even know so much about Nabradia's princess? Nabradia's _dead_ princess, as I recall?"

"I have seen paintings," said Al-Cid, waving his hands in the air with a distant glimmer in his eyes. One would have thought he was speaking of a great landscape. "Paintings and paintings and Memstone recordings of her from her time in Dalmasca. And you…"

"…do not have her eyes," Anastacia finished. This was the failsafe. "Her eyes were amber. Mine are green."

Al-Cid's face fell. "Surely it is a trick of the light—"

"Look closely," said Anya, pointing to her eyes and lying through her teeth. "I've been accused of being the princess many times. But the Dalmascans who knew her can tell by the startling color of my eyes – a defect from my birth, said my father once – that no royal blood flows through my veins. I'm…sorry to disappoint." Although the pirate wondered what business a Rozarrian prince had looking at Anastacia's portraits so closely that he would know the shape of her face immediately.

Al-Cid's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes downcast. They contained only disappointment when they looked back into hers. "So you are not – Anastacia? Impossible…"

Anastacia shook her head. Before the prince could speak any more, the pirate asked, "So, please tell me…Lord Al-Cid, how did I arrive here? Where are we?"

"Ah—of course, of course," said Al-Cid. He couldn't abandon her simply because she was a commoner and not the princess he had been hoping for. "Your Bangaa friend – Monid, I believe – found you in the Paramina Rift. You were unconscious. He brought you here some two, three hours ago, to Mount Bur-Omisace. Immediately, I recognized you – that is to say, I thought I did."

Mount Bur-Omisace. Their destination. Were the others already here? "I was traveling here with seven others when I wandered and found Monid, after which I…lost my consciousness. Have you perhaps heard of a group – three men, three women, and a child – searching for their lost companion?"

"No, I'm afraid," said Al-Cid, having no memory of seeing such a party. "But I am certain they will find you soon. In the meantime, you are free to stay in this tent."

Anya smiled and bowed her head. "Thank you, prince."

"You are welcome, Adela," Al-Cid said, returning her cordiality, but was unable to wipe the disenchantment from his overall countenance.

"Anya," Anastacia corrected him. "Adela is my name in Rabanastre." She wondered why she'd said that to him. He would have been content knowing an alias, but perhaps she felt guilty of his disappointment. Or it could be that she was simply no longer accustomed to being called by a name that summoned only nostalgia. At Al-Cid's stunned expression, she added, "I owe you much for taking me in, prince. I won't steal from you – thief's honor."

Although his bangs covered most of his forehead, Anya could tell that the prince had an eyebrow raised. "You will forgive my reluctance to take your word for this."

Anya shrugged. "Can't be helped," she said, and like the words were a trigger, she remembered when Basch had said it in the Ondore Estate. "Then what will you do?" she asked, reliving the memory through his words and realizing she missed him terribly and had missed the opportunity to apologize this morning. "Hold me here in chains?"

Clearly, Al-Cid couldn't catch the reference. In fact, the dreamy smile that accompanied her question only confused him further. "No," he said slowly and cautiously, beginning to wonder if he had allowed a lunatic into his tent. If Anya was anything like his older sister, he would need to be as careful as possible when speaking with her. "Watch you, perhaps. You would imagine that a prince would have something better to do, but – not at the moment."

A question had been on the back of Anya's mind since Al-Cid revealed himself. "What business does a Rozarrian prince have in Bur-Omisace?"

Al-Cid flashed a knowing smile. "Business. Do not concern yourself with these things, Anya. Would you like a tour around the holy city? There is much to see – the view from the top of the sacred mount is breathtaking."

"I've seen it all from Bhujerba," said Anya, growing an immediate aversion to his patronizing tone. "Thank you for your offer, Lord Al-Cid, but I really should find my companions. They must already be very worried."

Al-Cid gave it some thought and then a fluttering sigh, waving his hands in the air as though washing his hands of any responsibility he might have for her. "Do what you will."

Anya smiled and held a hand out for the prince, who shook it with some amusement. "It was an honor to meet you, Prince Al-Cid."

"It was my pleasure, Anya," said Al-Cid, still unable to see anyone but Anastacia in the dagger-wielding girl before him. "Safe journeys to you."

"And to you, Prince," Anastacia replied, putting on her shoes, and found her eyes faring better against the light when she exited his tent. Outside, a Rozarrian woman – though not as tanned as Al-Cid – stood dutifully, a pair of sunglasses in her hands. She and Anya acknowledged each other with nods before the latter left to explore the sea of red tents in the vicinity.

Half the holy city was a refugee site. Red tents and makeshift homes filled half of that area, and the other half was where the refugees roamed, lining up to receive food cooked for them by the Kiltias or chatting amongst themselves; anything to busy each other as they waited their lives out in a war-free haven. There were so many of them. Anya had thought Rabanastre's Lowtown was overpopulated; now it seemed nothing compared to Mount Bur-Omisace. She had heard of these refugees, but was surprised to see that not all of them were Dalmascan. There were Archadians who were loath to be affiliated with the Empire and its misdeeds; Rozarrians, too, who recognized their prince but cared little for his presence, save for the women who found his quest for peace charming.

Despite all this, Al-Cid was correct. Whereas Bhujerba made its home in the clouds, Bur-Omisace rested above them. Off the top of the mountain, the sky was a sight to behold. Shaped like little cliffs, the jagd were stepping stones to a calming stream of clouds. The rest of the mountains in the Paramina Rift rose to the west, but from the holy city, the pass hardly appeared to be the freezing pit of wretchedness it was.

At the top of Bur-Omisace there stood two tall doors leading to the Hall of the Light, where heirs were baptized and the Gran Kiltias dreamed. Anastacia wanted to enter, ask her great-grand uncle Anastasis if he could tell her when her companions would arrive though she had never met him before (save for the day of her baptism, and that was hardly an introduction), but they wouldn't let her pass.

"It is not yet time," said the Kiltias guarding the doors. "The Gran Kiltias would that you wait a little while longer."

Anastacia crossed her arms. "Why? Are my companions there? Seven of them – three men, three women, and a child – we were separated in the rift. I should be there with them."

"It is not yet time," the Kiltias repeated. "The Gran Kiltias would that you wait a little while longer."

Anya wagered that the man before her was simply a Memstone recording and that she could wave a hand through him, but figured her embarrassment wasn't worth finding out if she was right. They would tell pilgrims if an important meeting was taking place, wouldn't they? With a practiced sneer, the pirate departed for the refugee site.

A considerably _stupid_ idea, as Al-Cid spotted her on his way to the pilgrimage half.

"Princess Anastacia!"

Anya wondered when she had lost enough intelligence to actually allow Anastacia to respond with a look.

Al-Cid excused himself to all the staring refugees and approached her, his handmaid (at least, Anya thought she was with the way she was dressed in some sort of uniform) scurrying after him. "You looked," said Al-Cid, thoughtfully. "You _looked_."

"I was searching for whoever might've mistaken me for the princess again," Anastacia saved with a curl of her lip. "I wouldn't raise my hopes, Lord Al-Cid."

Al-Cid shrugged. "Hope is the reason—"

"Lady Anastacia!" The prince was genuinely startled when an old man fell to his knees before them, taking Anya by the hand and sobbing into the back of her palm. They could barely make out the words as he continued his wailing.

As though the scene were a natural occurrence, a Kiltias bowed to Al-Cid without batting an eyelash at the crying man. "Lord Al-Cid, the Gran Kiltias Anastasis requests your presence in the Hall of the Light."

It was a task, but the Rozarrian prince managed to tear his eyes away from the poor man. "Ah—yes, of course."

The Kiltias bowed again. "Follow me."

"I will see you later, Adela," said Al-Cid, turning to leave.

For once, Anya focused all her attentions on him. And then she saw the Kiltias – the same one guarding the Hall of the Light. "You," she muttered, almost forgetting about her hand sticky with tears. Her eyes flickered from an already retreating Al-Cid to the Kiltias and back. "Wait, take me—"

They had already disappeared within the sea of people. Anastacia herself thought she was drowning, when she remembered the man and attempted to withdraw her hand. His grip was too strong, but his tears were finally running out. A few seconds passed until he finally composed himself enough to say, "We knew you were alive, Your Highness!"

More heads were turning. This was getting out of hand. "Sir, might we speak somewhere private? It's—"

"Oh, yes, of course, Your Highness!" said the man, getting off his knees and wiping his tearstained cheeks. "Please, this way!"

The old man excitedly pushed past the onlookers, mostly Archadian and Rozarrian refugees, who soon lost their interest in the lunatic and the odd-haired child causing a ruckus and returned to their daily meanderings. Anya followed with little difficulty, tracking someone in the crowd having been one of Balthier and Fran's first lessons, coupled with how the man whipped his head back every few moments to see if she was still there. She bumped into so many people that she would have gathered enough gil to make a fortune had she been anywhere else, but this was Bur-Omisace. There was nothing to take from refugees.

They reached one of the largest tents in the refugee site. It was filled with mats and personal belongings, but nobody was inside.

Anastacia resisted the temptation to _take a gander_ at the little trinkets on the ground out of habit. She focused her energies on the empty spaces instead. "Why is this tent bigger than the rest?"

"We Nabradians were some of the first refugees of the war, Your Highness," said the old man. "We were able to take as much space as we wanted then. As the war progressed, we maximized our suddenly minimized space, but most of us have stayed together."

Now that they were out of the crowd, Anya could get a better look at him and found she could almost identify him. His light brown, greying hair was longer than it should have been and there was stubble on his jaw where there should have been none and wrinkles were there should have been less, but his brown eyes were his all the same. She had seen this man around the castle before, both in Nabudis and in Rabanastre, but as she had never much cared for politics, she had not his name. The man caught the recognition that passed her features and wiped an oncoming tear. "Do you remember me, Your Highness? Oh – oh, my. What have you done to your eyes?"

Anastacia attempted to cover her eyes, only to realize it was incredibly foolish. "With these eyes…would you still call me Anastacia?"

"They used to be such a beautiful amber, like your father's…as Lord Rasler's grey eyes were from the most beautiful Queen, your mother," the old man mused."But _you _are Queen now, Your Highness! Surely a mage will find it easy to remove that wicked magick!"

Anya couldn't help but stare at the man. Anastacia had a feeling he wouldn't be as easy to fool as Al-Cid. "Did you say _we Nabradians_? There…there are more?"

"Oh, yes!" he nodded vigorously. "Enough to fill a small town! You see, Your Highness—oh, why describe them when we finally have hope? I must tell the others!" Making a pushing action in the air that said stay put, the old man scuttled away.

"And I've overstayed my welcome," said Anya, thinking of what Balthier might say in a similar situation. It was tempting to stay and see her countrymen who had survived, but they weren't her life anymore; she no longer danced for them. Anastacia should have died with her kingdom – Anya had made it so.

She crawled behind the tent, hoping to spot and hide in Al-Cid's temporary lodgings somewhere below the cliffs. When the noise settled down, she would ask for an audience with the Gran Kiltias. And then a cup to the head stopped her in her tracks. Giving the cup a nasty glare, she picked it up.

"Sorry." To her left was a baby boy on his hands and knees, reaching out for the clay in her hands. "My toy," he said, pointing at the cup. "My toy."

Anya smiled. "Hello, little boy. Where are your parents?"

"Stranger," he said, narrowing his little eyes at her. "No talking."

"Oh." Anya gave him the cup. "You were taught well, then. But don't you think wandering far from home is just as bad as talking to strangers?"

The baby boy had an expression resembling exasperation. Pointing to a tent a few paces from their current position, he said, "House there. Not far."

Anya gave a smug smirk until she realized she was trying to win a game against a child almost two decades younger than her. "You should crawl home now, boy."

The boy narrowed his eyes at her. "You. Crawl home too."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," she sighed. "My home is…well…"

"Stolen?" asked the boy, who then pointed to himself. "Home stolen too. By Empire."

Anastacia was stunned. "How old are you, little boy?"

The boy held up his first three fingers, tiny and soft and truly a baby's, and then played with his thumb, making it go up and down. "Two," he said. "Near three."

"You're very intelligent," said the pirate to the baby. "For a little boy. And you are very adorable."

The boy huffed. "Not boy. Man," he said, getting off his knees and sitting down before Anya. It was all the girl could do not to reach over and squeeze his fat cheeks. The last time Rasler had fat cheeks was before he turned thirteen. "Man of house."

"Quite right," said Anya. "Wait. What about your father?"

The boy shrugged.

Anastacia smiled with pity. "You should go home now, boy. Before your mother worries."

The boy sighed. "Not boy," he insisted. "M—"

"Marzen!" a woman called out from afar. She was beginning to sound frantic. "Marzen, dear, where have you gone?"

The boy turned his head in the voice's direction. To Anya he explained, "Mother."

Anya's mouth shaped itself into a patronizing 'o'. "So run alo—"

"Marzen!" the voice was near. "Marzen—oh, there you are!"

A woman appeared from behind Anya. She wore a simple dress of ivory and she swooped the baby boy up as soon as she came into view. "Marzen, didn't I ask you not to run off?" she scolded the boy, but soon her worry melted into love as she wiggled her nose against the boy's. "What are you doing here, Marzen?"

The boy – Marzen – shoved the cup in the woman's face. "Get cup. Mommy thirsty. Then lady." He pointed to Anya, who was finally noticed by the woman.

Dark brown hair, deep green eyes, and wide lips. Anastacia knew this woman, and it seemed she knew her, too.

"Anastacia?"

That voice. It was deeper now, worn with age, but it was her voice. Commanding but patient, exasperated but loving. Anya felt her eyes tearing up.

"Lady Beivinn?"

**XIIXIIXII**

Anastacia couldn't help but reveal herself to her old governess. Lady Beivinn had taken care of her even before she was Anya's current age, and the princess owed nearly all she had become to her. Although Anastacia hadn't always listened, this woman taught her everything from standard reading, to the royal duties of a princess, and to the mundane but practical solution to dealing with pain caused by the monthly cycles of females. Lady Beivinn wasn't her mother, but she had mattered a great deal to Rasler and Anastacia and she still mattered to Anya. Surely, Balthier and Fran didn't need to find out about this.

When the two women were finished drying Lady Beivinn's tent, nearly swamped with tears, Anastacia embraced her tightly.

"To find that you've been alive all this time – and that you have a son – I am overcome with joy," she said, preventing her eyes from watering once more.

"Not as glad as I," said the woman before her, wiping her own tears as she tucked Marzen into his mat. The child had failed miserably at comforting the two ladies in the tent, and surrendered to the sleep that called upon every infant. "When news came to Bur-Omisace of your suicide, I considered it, too. What…" She touched Anya's eyes. "What happened, Anastacia?"

Anya didn't know where to start. "Lady Beivinn, it—"

"Please, call me Adela. I am only fourteen years your senior…and now we are both grown women."

Anastacia smiled a little. Lady Beivinn had been Adela's own namesake. Her lips curled downward when she realized she couldn't avoid telling the truth to the one woman besides Fran who could tell when she was lying. "Adela, I've become a sky pirate."

"A…" Lady Beivinn put a hand to her mouth, covering a horrified gasp. "A sky pirate? And you…"

"Do what I must to survive," Anya finished. "I suppose you can say pickpocketing and stealing from the rich aren't necessary, but it's a tiny part of the game."

Even before Nabradia was destroyed, that sort of reasoning didn't sit well with the former governess, who had never appreciated Anastacia's inclination to playing her games. "And what is the larger?"

Anastacia remembered what Balthier taught her. It conflicted with what Lady Beivinn had said, but in his case, at the very least, he was right. "Freedom."

"Such freedom comes at a cost, does it not? Such as forsaking your homeland?"

Anya wondered if this was how Vossler felt when he said she had no right to judge him. "What homeland?" she asked indignantly. "Nab—"

The thought seemed to pain Lady Beivinn, too. Swiftly she put her hands over Anastacia's, her palms cold. "There are rumors that Princess Ashelia lives. Are they true?"

Anastacia looked for shadows outside the tent and found none. Leaning closer, she said, "Yes." But she wasn't so easily distracted; not anymore. "But Lady Beiv–Adela. What happened? Why…How…did Archadia get its claws on the Midlight Shard?"

Anya missed the guilt on Adela's face when a Kiltias peeked into the tent. "Excuse me, Adela. The Gran Kiltias requests your presence in the Hall of the Light."

It was the Kiltias who had refused her entrance, and then brought Al-Cid there, too. "It's my time, is it?"

The Kiltias gave no appearance of caring for her attitude. "The Gran Kiltias requests your presence in the Hall of the Light."

**XIIXIIXII**

As soon as Fran and Balthier stepped out of the snow and into the soothing warmth of Bur-Omisace, they were set upon by men in uniforms. Fran's first instinct was to reach for her arrows and Balthier already has a hand on his gun, but Larsa was quick to stay their hands.

"Bur-Omisace is a place of neutrality and peace," said the boy. "They would not apprehend even the most infamous sky pirates."

"That we are," said Balthier, lowering his arm and removing his jacket, but scanned the area. "I don't see Anya. We'll go and ask ahead—"

"The Gran Kiltias requests your presence in the Hall of the Light," one of the Kiltias spoke up.

"I shall accompany you," Basch said to Balthier.

Balthier frowned. "And why should you? It was Vaan who lost her during their shift."

"Hey, I said it's not my fault!"

"It matters not who is culpable," said Basch, getting in between them. "We will find Anya together."

"The Gran Kiltias requests your presence in the Hall of the Light."

Basch, Balthier, and Vaan whipped their heads irritably. The Kiltias returned with a cordial smile.

"Immediately."

Penelo sensed a confrontation coming about. "Maybe we should listen to what the Gran Kiltias has to say."

"How did he know we'd be here at this exact moment?" asked Vaan, staring at the number of Kiltias who surrounded them. "I mean, obviously they've never seen us before, so how do these guys know they're waiting for us?"

"I'm certain he has dreamt of it," Ashe said with some wonder. "Just as he should have dreamt of Anya's disappearance, because she is a companion of ours. We will find Anya in a heartbeat – how difficult should the task be? – and go to the Gran Kiltias."

"The Gran Kiltias requests your presence in the Hall of the Light."

Balthier had had about enough of this. "Listen, you—"

"He knows your troubles," said the leading Kiltias, ever calm. "The girl is safe. However, the Gran Kiltias first requests that you join him in the Hall of the Light."

"You can join him in the Hall of the Light," Balthier said to Ashe. "We'll find Anya."

"Even the pirates."

Fran quirked an eyebrow. "Even the pirates?"

"Yes," said the Kiltias. "The man who wields the gun, he said, and the Viera with him. And the two adolescents with Lord Larsa and Lady Ashe, and Basch fon Ronsenburg of Nabradia."

"You're mistaken," said Larsa. "You meant to say Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca."

"The Gran Kiltias is never mistaken, Your Highness," said the Kiltias. For some reason, that bothered Balthier.

Sensing they would not move unless Petrified and carried to the Gran Kiltias, the leading Kiltias clapped his hands hurriedly. "The Gran Kiltias awaits."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me—" Balthier began, but Fran took him by the hand and led the way to the holy temple.

The path from the entrance of Bur-Omisace to the temple grounds was normally only a short walk, but there seemed to be a commotion around the refugee area. An old man with disheveled hair over his face was dragging his friends about, proclaiming that if there were rumors saying that Ashelia lived, then so did Anastacia, and her presence itself on Bur-Omisace was evidence. Many seemed to rejoice, asking to see the girl and if he could prove Ashelia's survival as well, while many grew angry and demanded that he leave the memory of both princesses in peace and cease his babbling. Others were indifferent, pushing past the gathering crowd. It was as impassable as an angry demon wall.

"Alive? _Anastacia_?" Balthier whispered to Fran, whose eyes were fixed on the noisy old man at the center of the crowd.

"Her scent is here," replied the Viera, her eyebrows furrowing. "She is here. But Anastacia…"

Basch and Ashe exchanged shocked looks. "Anastacia lives…?"

"That old man is a Nabradian refugee. The Gran Kiltias asks that you pay him little mind for now," said the Kiltias leading them.

"You mean he's always saying that Anastacia's still alive?" asked Penelo.

The Kiltias turned to her as they waded through the refugees. "You will have your chance to speak with him if you are so inclined at a later time. However, the Gran Kiltias asks that you pay him little mind for now."

"Listen to the Hume," Fran announced. "The Gran Kiltias takes precedence over rumors, does he not?"

"Fran is right," said Larsa. "Let's go."

The Hall of the Light was too confusing, in Vaan's opinion. It was clear as day and he felt extremely refreshed, and yet he was tempted to slip into a deep sleep. Suppressing a yawn, he looked around curiously. A translucent circular dome topped the hall, allowing natural light to phase through, and they were treading a path flanked on the sides by ponds dotted with lilies. Ancient writing – Galtean, though he didn't know it – covered the walls and pillars whose design resembled those in Raithwall's Tomb, holy scriptures that could be read only by the Hymms and the Gran Kiltias himself. At the head of the hall there was the statue of an elegant woman in blue and gold, little lamps of green extending from behind her to provide light in the evening.

There was a white-haired, white-bearded old man so still before the statue that he might have been a statue himself. Even with his hunched posture he was tallest in the room, towering even over Fran, and his hands were clasped together as if in prayer.

Larsa had informed Vaan that the current Gran Kiltias was Prince Rasler's great grand-uncle, and now the latter could see that he really was old. He was so wrinkled that if the boy hadn't seen the slow rise and fall of his chest, Vaan might have thought he was dead. So instead he asked, "Is he sleeping?"

"Shh!" Ashe hissed.

_No, my child,_ said a voice, deep and wizened. Vaan jumped out of his skin with a loud 'whoa', but settled down when he realized the Gran Kiltias was speaking in their minds. Ashe described Belias doing the same thing, but he hadn't imagined it to feel like this. It was like thinking someone else's thoughts with someone else's voice. It continued, _I do not sleep. For reality and illusion are a duality, two parts of a whole. Only the mirror of dreams reflects what is true._

Fran and Balthier exchanged furtive glances. An audience with the Gran Kiltias was an honor, of course, and to be summoned by him a greater one even for sky pirates of their renown, but where was the girl who completed their trio? They were impatient for answers. If the Gran Kiltias could read their minds and knew this, he said nothing.

"Anastasis, Your Grace," said Ashe, stepping forward, "I am Ashelia—"

_Lay down your words,_ thought the Gran Kiltias, giving no indication of seeing the princess's startled embarrassment._ Ashelia, daughter of Raminas, I have dreamt your dream. Who better to carry on the Dalmascan line than she who bears the Dawn Shard? Your dream of a kingdom restored is known to me._

Larsa took his place beside his new ally, and possibly friend. "Gran Kiltias, then give us your blessing," said the boy. "Grant the Lady Ashe her accession—"

"I do not suppose this is something you might reconsider?" another voice boomed from behind the incomplete party. Rozarrian accent, confident stance, and white pants. Balthier restrained his curling lip and crossed his arms instead as a man he thought needed a longer lace for his scanty tunic waltzed past them to reach Larsa and Ashe. And who wore sunglasses inside?

"My little Emperor-in-waiting," said Al-Cid, "you called and I have come."

Larsa wore a polite smile, maturely extending his gloved hand, but Al-Cid reached for his hair to give it a slight ruffle. The younger prince scowled and forced the older man's hand off his head. Stopping his cheeks from burning, he turned to Ashe. "This is the man I wanted you to meet. Believe it or not, he is a member of the noble House Margrace, rulers of the Rozarrian Empire."

Al-Cid was already on his way to Ashe. "I am but one of very, very many," he said, shrugging coolly. Try as I might, I could not stop this war alone, thus I came seeking Larsa's assistance." When he knew that all of the princess's focus was on him, he removed his sunglasses and gave his hair a toss. His maid perfunctorily took the shades and slipped them onto her uniform. With a bow, the Rozarrian prince continued, "Al-Cid Margrace, at your service. To think I stand before the Lady Ashe – it is truly an honor."

Penelo couldn't help but cover a gasp as Al-Cid knelt down, took Ashe's hand, and gave it a kiss. The princess herself was stunned, exchanging shocked eyes with her younger friend, though Fran seemed unimpressed by it all. Anastasis wore a small grin on his face, but the men, of course, were not amused.

"I see it is true after all," Al-Cid said so smoothly that not even Fran was blind to the honesty behind it. "Stunning is Dalmasca's desert bloom."

As though accustomed to this attitude, Larsa rolled his eyes and sighed.

The Gran Kiltias thought it best to 'speak' before the boy older than Larsa opened his mouth. _In Archadia, Larsa. In Rozarria, Al-Cid. They dream not of war. Should Empire join with Empire, the way will open for a new Ivalice in our time._

Al-Cid seemed to give this little thought, giving a cynical "Hah!" and continuing with, "Gran Kiltias, you speak much of dreams. But in the real world, war is upon us."

"Gran Kiltias," said Ashe, regaining her voice, "I was told coming here would prevent this war. I was to assume my father's throne and announce the restoration of Dalmasca, treat with the Empire for peace, and persuade the Resistance to stay their hand. I have not come all this way to be asked to…" she spared Al-Cid a dirty look for Larsa's sake. "…to reconsider!"

Al-Cid deflected her offense easily. "A word from you and the Resistance would stop cold, and Rozarria's pretext for the war – scattered, off to the four winds. This was what we had hoped. Alas, circumstances change. A full two years have passed since your reported death… Were it to become known you were still alive, I fear it could only worsen our current situation."

Ashe spared him no longer. "Because I am _powerless_ to help."

Al-Cid returned with an irritable shake of his head. "_Nay_, in fact it has little do with you."

"Then what?" asked Larsa. "If Lady Ashe were to extend her hand in friendship, perhaps I could then persuade the Emperor. His Excellency will solve things peacefully—"

"The Emperor Gramis is no more," Al-Cid blurted out, and as though regretting his callousness much too late, he softened his voice. "His life was taken."

Larsa felt the earth shake and wondered if they were in the Henne mines again, where another gate was opening. But he was here in Bur-Omisace, having an audience with the Gran-Kiltias, and suddenly all the memories he had of his father since his birth came to him, pushing and flowing, attempting to break the floodgate of his eyes. He held his ground, though his next words came out shakily. "Father…!"

Al-Cid felt for the younger prince – he remembered his own reaction to the deaths of his two eldest brothers in his youth. He had locked himself in his room for nearly four days until his younger baby of a sister had somehow crawled her way into his closet without opening the door and he was forced to come out with her. Larsa needed time; unfortunately, _now_ was not the time. Leaving the boy to his reverie, he said to Ashe, unable to cloak the bitterness he felt towards Gramis's murderer, "Let us suppose you approach the Empire with a peaceful resolution. The late Emperor Gramis would have lent you his ear, that much is certain, but we are dealing with Vayne Solidor." He turned to the rest as though they were an audience. "Should the princess return, he would claim her an impostor. All to tempt the Resistance into battle. Vayne wants this war – that much is certain. As our ill luck would have it, the man is a military _genius_."

As he spoke, Fran's nose twitched in realization. There was something familiar about the man, but her great disdain for how he held himself (not unlike Balthier, but very much like her partner, she believed that only Balthier could act in such a manner successfully) had hindered her before. "He reeks," she whispered.

Balthier rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it."

Fran would have smiled if she wasn't serious. "He reeks of Anya."

Balthier started. "What?"

Vaan and Penelo understood Al-Cid's words only vaguely and could see only Larsa and his melancholy. They neared him, arms outstretched, and could only give him apologetic looks and comforting shoulder squeezes. There were no words, they knew from experience, that would truly comfort him now. Although both of them had always wished at the back of their minds that the Emperor, by whose hands their own families had been destroyed, would face his own death, now it felt less than a triumph than just another loss. Larsa was their friend, whether he shared blood with murderers or not.

Anastasis interrupted them all. This was the burden of the extraordinary, of those poised to change history, his closest brother had said to him when he was made King of Nabradia and he, the Gran Kiltias, and they were forced to separate from each other – that they must prioritize their own feelings only after their cause, their duty.

_The dreams have told me thus. To reveal yourself would imperil us all. I see war, and Vayne's name writ bold on history's page._

Al-Cid respected the Gran Kiltias, but he required no dreams to know this. "Archadia's banners fly high – they are making ready for the coming war. According to our latest reports…" He took a piece of paper from his silent handmaid and read, "The Western Armada prepares for war, under Vayne's command no less. The newly formed 12thFleet has already been deployed. Oh yes, the Imperial 1st Fleet stands ready. They'll be under way as soon as the Odin's refit is complete. And there is more: the 2ndKerwon Expeditionary Force is being called in to replace the missing 8th, so there will be no gaps." Keeping the suddenly heavy scrap of parchment, the Rozarrian prince could not hide his vexation. "The largest force ever seen!"

Ashe held her breath. "And then…the Nethicite is the Coup de Grace." With an affirming nod from Al-Cid, she turned to Anastasis. "Gran Kiltias, Your Grace. I spoke to you of my succession. Let us put that aside. Should I become Queen of Dalmasca now, powerless as I am, I can protect nothing. With a greater power at my disposal, perhaps then…"

The Gran Kiltias was still. _…It is the Nethicite of which you dream?_

"I require something far greater."

And then the Gran Kiltias opened his eyes, sharp despite his age and a startling emerald green, but even then nobody could tell if it was anger that coursed through him, or merely shock or reprobation. When he finally spoke, really spoke with his voice, it was as clear and distinct as his eyes. "To wield power against power. Truly the words of a Hume-child."

Mjrn's words – _power-needy Hume!_ – resounded in the minds of Fran, Penelo, and Ashe, but the princess could think of only her people. Them, Penelo, and Vaan. Her father, Rasler, and Anastacia. "I am descended from the Dynast-King himself."

"Indeed," said the Gran Kiltias, wishing his great grand-niece had her sister-in-law's willpower. No matter; she would play a part in this as well. "Then you have but one choice. Seek you the other power Raithwall left."

"Does such a thing exist?" asked Ashe with wonder.

"Journey across the Paramina Rift to the Stilshrine of Miriam," said Anastasis. "There rests the gift he entrusted to the Gran Kiltias of our time. Seek it out. The Sword of Kings can _cut_ through Nethicite. Why he would entrust the power to destroy Nethicite, the instrument of his greatness to another and not his own progeny, I cannot say. Awaken, Ashelia B'nargin and take up your sword, or your dream will remain but a dream."

Ashe bowed to the Gran Kiltias, turning to leave, when she remembered Larsa. Vaan and Penelo surrounded him protectively, but the boy seemed to notice neither of them, the way nobody noticed the tall doors to the Hall opening and closing. The princess opened her mouth, wishing to say something to soothe the son of her late enemy, but the Gran Kiltias spoke first.

"And take up your dagger, Anastacia Selene, or our nightmare will remain so for eternity... My dream, too, fades into day."

Everyone in the room whipped their heads to the Gran Kiltias, and then to the doors where a girl with short, sandy hair stood frozen in her place, two hands placed over her head in grim realization. In her haste to find her friends, she had forgotten all about finding a new wig.

Ashe found her voice first. "Anastacia?"

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **krupa360**, **kitkat18**, **finalfan21**, and **blackbeltgirl95**, you guys really inspired me to keep writing! And everyone who reviewed before this, of course, and the ones who still put **The Games We Play** on their story alerts :)

Review!

I'm sorry this was short! I will upload the next chapter immediately and not leave you hangin' just to show how apologetic I am, haha! See you!


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary: Anastacia has turned her back on the life she once knew, becoming instead a cutpurse for a duo of cunning pirates. After a fateful brush with the sister Ondore announced dead, however, she finds herself ultimately unraveling the past she swore to forget.**

Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter, as promised! Today the party goes through drama, the Stilshrine of Miriam, and drama! Forgive the drama. I've been planning this for ages, haha!

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 15**

Once again, the entire room seemed to shrink down for Anastacia. The sudden silence that filled the room was enough to drive her to insanity, but she didn't want another spectacle reminiscent of her brother's funeral. Everyone stared at her, mouths agape, save for the Gran Kiltias who looked upon her pleasantly.

"What…" Ashe glanced from the girl to the Anastasis and back. "What manner of trickery…?"

Said the Gran Kiltias, "There is naught but truth."

Balthier's fists clenched as Ashe stumbled forward, her arms outstretched towards her sister. When she finally reached her, she wondered suddenly if this were a dream the Gran Kiltias was sharing with her, but upon feeling the warmth of the girl's arm, she enveloped her in a tight embrace. Her tears wouldn't hold. "Anastacia!"

Anastacia couldn't help but close her eyes and lean into her sister's touch. It had been so long since she received such affection from Ashelia, and now that it was available to her she couldn't help but respond. Only when she remembered that she was also Anya did she release Ashe.

"Have you – have you lived in Bur-Omisace all this time?" asked Ashe, cupping Anastacia's face. Her eyes were so blurred with tears that she could barely see the younger girl. "Uncle Halim sent you here, didn't he? He knew you were alive…then why did he send me your pendant? Was it to protect you? What—"

"I knew it!" Al-Cid exclaimed, calling everyone out of their shocked stupor. "You are my princess," he said, going to Anastacia and wrapping his arms around her. "It is you, Anastacia…"

Basch knew he should have been angry, but he didn't know why. Anastacia may have been his fiancée, but—

"Get your hands off her," said Balthier, pulling Anya from the other man's grasp.

Al-Cid grabbed Anastacia's hand back, shooting the pirate a nasty look. "Anastacia! Do you know this man?"

Ashe, taken aback by all the interruptions, finally spoke. "Anastacia, your eyes!"

Finally, Basch realized why, and he went to forcibly remove the Rozarrian prince from his woman. "_Anya_?"

Vaan blinked. "No _way_."

Al-Cid frowned at Basch, but he crossed his arms and stared at Anya. "Ah, the matter of your eyes. How—"

The green from Anya's eyes faded into a dull amber.

Balthier whipped his head at Fran, who frowned at Penelo. The girl, holding her staff and having only finished uttering a long Dispel incantation, now appeared extremely apologetic. "I – I just wanted to see if it was true…"

"Anya," Ashe repeated, staring at Basch's hand on her sister. "_You_ are Anastacia?"

"With all her slip-ups, it's hardly a surprise," Balthier muttered irritably. Anya couldn't look him in the eye.

Now that they had pointed it out, it all made sense to Ashe. Anya's eyes glazing over when they met in the Garamsythe. Her dance with the Firemane – one of the warrior dances of Nabradia. The way she looked at her in their jail cell in the Leviathan. Her nagging sense of familiarity around her, especially when she had called her Ashelia and tossed her that sword in their battle with Ghis. How Anya wandered into Anastacia's room in the Ondore estate. How she knew the location of Raithwall's Tomb. Why she was so ready to throw herself in harm's way to protect her before the demon wall. How half the demon wall stopped with her blood. Why she was so angry when she saw that her sister was in love with Vossler only two years after her brother's death. Why Belias willingly shared his power not only with her, but with Anya as well. Why Anya had asked for her engagement ring.

"You were always with me," said Ashe. "Why…How could I fail to recognize you?"

Basch wondered the same thing.

Anya struggled to look to Fran and Balthier. The Viera gave a slight nod, and Balthier gave a hopeless huff. Even if they wished to, they could no longer deny it. "I wasn't sent here by Uncle Halim…clearly," said Anastacia, her gaze to the floor. She stopped modulating her voice and allowed it to take its natural higher pitch. "When I heard news of your deaths, Ashelia…Basch…I fell into such despair that not even Uncle Halim's words could soothe me. He attempted to patch up the situation, saying that with the treaty still intact, I would by Queen of Dalmasca, and my King would be an unmarried son of Emperor Ar-Elius of Rozarria. I wonder if that was you, Al-Cid.

"But with your deaths fresh in my mind, I couldn't hear Uncle's words. I ran away, and Balthier found me. He and Fran took care of me when I believed I had no one else left in Ivalice. To shake off pursuers, Balthier went to Uncle Halim and presented him with my pendant, claiming I had given it to him before jumping off the Kaff Terraces. So that no one but his soldiers would search for my body in the earth or sea below, Uncle announced that I committed suicide in his own estate. I have played a pirate for as long as you have played an insurgent, Ashelia."

"Wow," was all Vaan could muster.

Al-Cid quirked an eyebrow. "Of course I would have been your King, Anastacia. We were arranged to marry!"

Basch's grip on Anya tightened. "No," he said. "I was her fiancé."

"Impossible," said Al-Cid. "King Perraen promised my father—"

"Nothing," said Basch. "Emperor Ar-Elius saw the coming treaty between Dalmasca and Nabradia and saw an opportunity in Lady Anastacia's recent birth. He offered you, his fourth son, for betrothal, but King Perraen and King Raminas knew that an alliance would only fuel Archadia's wrath and told your father that the princess was already betrothed. Emperor Ar-Elius asked for evidence. Quickly the kings scoured the land for a fiancé. Their eyes landed on Vossler and myself, for a marriage between Nabradia's princess and one of the highest-ranking military officers of Dalmasca would strengthen the ties between the kingdoms and stress on their neutrality in the Empire wars. Vossler refused, but the Marquis Ondore convinced me otherwise. Thus I became the fiancé of the princess, making it impossible for either Empire to form an alliance with Nabradia. Your father must have believed it a hoax, but it was not. The Lady Anastacia and I were betrothed."

"Well," said Balthier to Anya, "it appears you were a grand prize to be won."

"I wasn't betrothed to anyone," said Anastacia, turning to Ashe for support. It warmed her that of all people, Basch was her betrothed, but no one had ever mentioned anything concerning _her_ marriage. Hadn't it always been about Rasler? "My father sent me to Rabanastre to find a suitable husband, didn't he?"

Ashe shook her head. "Basch is correct. To avoid an alliance that would tip the scales of war, our fathers arranged another treaty of sorts. My father suggested Basch, and your father appointed him your betrothed. We…we didn't tell you because we thought you would refuse something so heavy as a duty."

"Then when were you planning to tell me?" Anya stared at Basch quizzically. "When we met before you departed for Nalbina, did you know?"

"I did," said Basch, but that seemed far from his mind all of a sudden. He released her as though singed. "Everything you said – about being a servant, your entire existence, Anya – of course. Why should I be surprised that it was a lie?"

There it began to dawn on Anastacia that Anya's stories would become a problem. There had been so many, and she knew Basch's frame of mind, but the way to handle this escaped her. The game of pretend was all about not getting caught. The rules hadn't ever said anything about what to do when one lost.

"Basch…" Anastacia reached out for his hand again, but he turned away and made for the door, ignoring Anya's attempts to follow.

"Larsa, I am sorry for your loss," said the former Captain, stopping once he arrived at the door. He was hesitating; even Vaan could see that. Basch turned his head, his eyes on the lily pads on the pond near him, but he could see Anya waiting for him. Anya or Anastacia? It was overwhelming, and her lies had struck him the most. He couldn't return now, he decided, and left without so much as a glance at the rest.

"What servant?" Balthier asked, frowning. He hadn't liked how they held each other so closely.

Anastacia didn't want to deal with his anger now and shook her head, turning instead to Ashe and Al-Cid. "I'm sorry I lied to you, but no good would have come out of telling you who I really am. It's irrelevant."

"It isn't irrelevant," said Ashe, quickly forgetting Basch's outburst. It puzzled her if she would still be upset with him for falling in love with someone he didn't know was his intended, but that didn't matter now. "You're alive, Anastacia. Are you not aware of how much hope is borne from that?"

"Much," Al-Cid whispered. "If we manage to stay the tides of war and win peace, we might restore both Dalmasca and Nabradia."

"Maybe," said Anya. "But I'd rather we not speak of that now – with Larsa's father passing on." Excuses, because she hated Emperor Gramis with all her heart and felt only mostly pity and some compassion for Larsa, who was a friend. Had Basch stayed, would he have thought she was good at those? He had so readily acknowledged her penchant for lying. "My condolences, prince."

"And mine," said Ashe.

"Ours as well," said Fran.

Everyone's attention was on Larsa, finally. He raised his head, giving a tiny half-smile. His eyes were shining, and with the way his throat bulged it was clear he was biting back tears. But even without the Gran Kiltias's dreams, everyone in the room knew Larsa was truly of noble blood – even with his glassy eyes, his voice didn't waver. "I should have known your story was too suspicious to be true, Lady Anastacia."

Anya shrugged noncommittally. Her mind was far away, with a man walking back to even he didn't know where.

Basch was trudging. It had never been in his habit to trudge; that was Vossler, who spat the word _optimist_ at him like an oath when he tried to convince him to do otherwise during training. But then he had never felt so betrayed – save for when he watched his brother kill King Raminas for a bloodthirsty Vayne Solidor and when he realized Vossler had struck a deal with Ghis and given him the Dawn Shard.

Anya's ruse had been so transparent; he saw that now. She knew everything she wasn't supposed to know. How could he have bought that 'servant' excuse? How had he forgotten that whenever a younger Anastacia disappeared into the hidden castle rooms, it had been Adela Beivinn who found her, alone and dancing? How hadn't he discovered it when her blood and Ashe's stopped the demon wall that asked for proof of royal lineage?

Baltheir was right – Anya had slipped many times. In an earlier version of her story, she said she had never seen him. And then as they became closer friends in the Lhusu mines, she said she _had_ seen him from afar. Of course the stories about Rasler made her cry as though she wasn't a worldly sky pirate. Of course she knew that the map to one of the old Galtean structures was on the Nabradian pendant. Anastacia would never have revealed it to anyone under pain of death. _She_ would never.

Vossler had known that. He knew and Anya had known that he knew, and that was why he tried to kill her on the Shiva, talking of truants and Ashe's staying true to the Resistance's cause instead of joining pirates. That was why she could say nothing when Vossler gave her pendant to Ashe and claim Ondore had passed it on through him.

Ondore knew. He gave the pendant to Anya, recognizing his own goddaughter. That was why he spoke with her that night in such hushed tones, and why she ran out so suddenly, seemingly in pain, and eager to leave the place that reminded her of her days as a princess.

The pieces all fit. He just hadn't seen the entire picture because he had been so ready to believe her lies. He wasn't upset that Anastacia had become a pirate. He wasn't upset that Anastacia had denied being Anastacia to him, since he had never asked. It was that Anya would keep this great secret from him even after learning that he loved her, even after proclaiming that she loved him in return.

The Gran Kiltias advised Larsa to stay behind with him so as to mourn his father's passing, while the rest exited the Hall of the Light in another great buzz about the dead returning to life after giving Larsa a moment of silence to pay their respects to his father, murderer or not.

Balthier and Fran walked ahead, with the former still quite unhappy about Anya's revelation. Fran hid her displeasure more carefully. Anya had been theirs, after all, and though she knew the princess didn't truly belong with them, she had grown to love the young girl and their cast, their family with Nono and their adventures, and this had become their life. If they did manage to stop Vayne Solidor's bloodthirsty quest for qar and restored Dalmasca, what would happen to their cast? Surely Ashe would want her sister-in-law by her side, and it was clear that despite their arguments, Balthier wouldn't surrender Anya with a smile and a ribbon on her forehead. There was also Basch to consider. Days ago, Fran might have been confident that Anya would stay with them no matter what. But now, with all that had happened – she supposed it was partly her fault as well. If she had kept Anya's infatuation with that Hume in check and kept their cast away from Ashe and her quest, perhaps they would still be complete.

Ashe and Al-Cid were, of course, completely oblivious to this. They were too overwhelmed about the return of another proclaimed dead to follow Basch now, or to care that she had been a sky pirate. Al-Cid ignored the funny feeling that Balthier wanted to bite his head off while Ashe, at the back of her mind, reflected on their fight in that expensive inn at Rabanastre. In the Eruyt Village she had come to terms with Basch and Anya's romance, and though it sparked her inner giddy schoolgirl to realize that two intended for each other without any real feelings involved were torn apart for two years only to suddenly find themselves in love without knowledge of what they should have once meant to each other, her mind was plagued by her previous thoughts on Basch's word.

She once wanted Basch's approval to love once more, but now that she knew it was Anastacia who had been furious with her for coming to love Vossler, her guilt returned in waves and she felt as though she had betrayed Rasler all over again.

"I wonder who's next," Vaan mumbled to himself.

Walking beside him, Penelo glanced curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Vaan, turning to face her, "Basch is alive, Ashe is alive, and now Anastacia's alive, too. Not that I'm complaining, but I just wonder who's next, y'know? Plus that Marquis is a pretty big liar."

"Hah," Penelo chuckled and raised her eyes to meet Vaan's, "I guess you're right, I mean….uh…"

From that night in Jahara until now, the two hadn't had a real conversation alone. The death of Archadia's Emperor and Anastacia's sudden unveiling took the memory of their aloofness towards each other away, as though they were the same old best friends again, but as soon as their eyes met, they knew this to be false. They could always pretend to be, but... So much for keeping her as a friend, Vaan thought.

"Yeah…" Vaan mumbled, putting up his usual defense of crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the sky.

Anya suddenly turned up beside them as she was wont to whenever an awkward silence befell them, but this time she seemed just as relieved. She had only escaped the smothering conversation of Ashe and Al-Cid, who were pressing her for answers, explanations to why she had done what she did; innocent questions, she understood, not meant to torment like Vossler's, and perhaps at another time she would be glad to answer them, but at the moment all she could think of was Basch. Balthier and Fran stood close in her thoughts, but she couldn't bear to imagine Basch being angry with her.

"Hey, Anya."

Penelo frowned at him, restraining from slapping her shoulder only because she was worried about what it might imply. "Vaan…"

He looked at Penelo stiffly then turned to Anya. "Right. Anastacia."

"It doesn't matter what you call me," the older teen said, giving them both a meaningful look. Almost pleading, in Penelo's opinion. "I _am_ still the sky pirate you've shared life-threatening adventures with."

"But you're also a princess," Penelo reminded her.

"So is Ashe," Anya reasoned. "And we've worked with her just fine."

"Yeah, but we're just getting used to you as a princess now," said Vaan. He still couldn't believe it, to be honest. The weird way she acted and spoke in some situations before suddenly wasn't so weird anymore, but that someone who'd been a rascal and who was a thief he'd shared many of his deepest secrets with was really one of the two (now not so) dead princesses of Dalmasca and Nabradia – it definitely threw him off.

"Maybe the blood coursing through my veins would matter if I actually possessed a kingdom to ransom, like Ashelia," the princess retorted, pausing only for a moment to relish how she could now refer to her sister-in-law as she used to. "It's only a title now. I'm more useful as a sky pirate than a princess. Would probably fetch a better price, too."

Vaan appeared thoughtful. "Actually, I think Vayne would pay more for a princess. Especially one from a kingdom that fought against the Archadian Empire, right?"

Penelo would have shot Vaan a glare if she could forget that they weren't on comfortable speaking terms. Anya gave him the look in his heart's desire's stead, but her expression quickly turned to one of amusement, no matter if regret lingered somewhere beneath it.

Vaan couldn't help but grin in return. "What? It would crush Ashe if she had to deal with you dying all over again."

Penelo hated to agree with Vaan at the moment, always afraid of the implications, but he was right, and she nodded at Anya to do so. "She grieved for you."

"I know," said Anastacia, remembering her Uncle Halim's words and raising a hand to silence the two. Already she remembered the authority she once possessed and wielded to an extent. Well, perhaps not real authority. She had always been too young, too unaccomplished in terms of academics and swordfighting (unlike Rasler) to be truly respected. But she did have the people's love and admiration back then, and an action like raising her hand would have silenced her kingdom and some Dalmascans, much like some Nabradians and all of Dalmasca would have done for Ashelia. That was, before her adoptive country decided she was a lunatic at sixteen for being unable to cope with her beloved brother's death. "I can't be told enough. In any case, I am as powerful as I was years ago, when I was only the princess. I don't doubt this will spread, as rumors have of Ashelia's survival even this far, but I'm…I'm powerless all the same."

Vaan watched her carefully. "So, what, do you want your own Shard too? Or Shard-cutter?"

Anastacia frowned. "Vaan," she said in a tone he hadn't heard since she wanted to take the Dusk Shard from him. "The Shard that belonged to my House destroyed my family and my people. I may have wanted the Dusk Shard for Ashelia's memory, but I wouldn't dare dream of using its power."

"But like you said, you're powerless," said Vaan. He didn't know why he wanted to find fault with her so much. Maybe her lies had hurt him, too. How could a good friend keep such a big secret from another? Then again, Balthier and Fran had hidden her identity from everyone. "Ashe is doing something about her similar situation."

"Because she has something to fight for," Anya repeated. "I wasn't complaining about my powerlessness. Ashelia will decide for herself what must be done to save her kingdom, but I'll never ask for the power of the gods. So…I am still Anya, all right?"

Basch wandered the refugee camp aimlessly, still upset and yet feeling somewhat foolish for leaving the party. With the meeting with the Gran Kiltias finished and a new quest to claim the sword that cut through Nethicite upon them, they were bound to set up camp and leave early in the morning. The tents were with Vaan, unfortunately, so if he wanted any silence to himself, he would have to find them again and ask the boy for theirs.

But returning would make him look as he felt, so he decided to wait for them to return to the refugee area instead. The crowd that had earlier blocked the way had dispersed, leaving only people muttering about crazy old men and others too ready to believe a bunch of rumors.

"Captain Basch? Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg!"

Basch subtly picked up his pace. Imperials in the mountain? How had they caught up so soon? If he gave no indication of even knowing about himself, perhaps they would leave. He could easily be a refugee.

A hand gripped his arm. In the split second that Basch used to think on whether or not he would draw his sword, he realized the hand was made of flesh and not of steel, and turned without his weapon drawn. Familiar brown eyes marveled at him. Basch realized it was the man at the center of the crowd earlier, proclaiming that Anastacia lived, and Basch realized that he knew him.

Closer and without so much noise, the former Captain saw through the old man's unruliness and forced him to release his arm so he could grab his shoulder. "Lord Harthas?"

Harthas was the former Nabradian ambassador to Dalmasca, having been close friends with the kings of both nations before they were either destroyed or subdued by the Archadian Empire. He had always been a friend to Basch, somewhat of a mentor, being an outsider and yet taking residence in Dalmasca, and shared his wisdom in all the peace and wartime councils Basch had participated in even when he was only still a Lieutenant.

"It is you!" cried the old man joyfully. "It is all true, isn't it, that Ondore's proclamation was false? The Lady Ashe, Lady Anastacia – who has gone missing again, I'm afraid, but she should be around here somewhere – and you, Basch… you all live!"

"Yes," said Basch, still quick to trust old friends despite Vossler's example. "When they took me away, Harthas, I had been sure of your death. How…?"

"I knew we were fools to be so certain of yours, old friend," Harthas replied, thumping Basch on the back. "After the King's assassination and reports of the princesses' suicide, we had no choice but to leave the castle or face the wrath of Vayne Solidor. " He hung his head. "I do not pretend to still bear honor from our escape, but to see you live again is worth this shame. How are you alive? How did the lies about your loyalty come about?"

Seeing Harthas again had momentarily distracted Basch into once more dreaming of the golden days of Dalmasca and Nabradia, but with the man's question he was thrust into remembering how he had escaped prison. "I once told you of my brother, Noah – he was a soldier under Vayne Solidor, and now a Judge Magister. On the night of the assassination, he impersonated me and murdered the King, leaving one soldier alive to bear witness and shaming me forever. In truth, Vayne has kept me imprisoned since that night, but not more than a month past…" Basch tried to exact how long they had been traveling. It seemed like ages now, with all that had happened. "Sky pirates escaping Nalbina found me and aided my escape. One of them, Harthas, was Anastacia."

Harthas wondered about his lack of honorifics, but a more pressing question was on his mind. "Her Highness? A _sky pirate_? Impossible. A member of a resistance, perhaps, but—"

Basch shook his head. "We've been traveling companions since we escaped the Fortress and found the Lady Ashe, but the Gran Kiltias has only just revealed to us her identity."

Harthas paused, appearing thoughtful. "I found her, you know," he said quietly, a completely different man from the old lunatic sobbing on Anya's hand and proclaiming that she was alive to refugees earlier. It was almost as if he were an honorable emissary again. "I may have overreacted somewhat…you see, I could hardly believe she lived. And yet she did not meet me with the same vigor, the same hope. She was almost…reluctant."

Basch found Anastacia still too sensitive a topic and glanced away. His eyes landed on a young woman who looked to be Balthier's age, fair-skinned with dark, almost black hair to her chest. She stood out among the crowd because she towered over most of them with her broad shoulders and a height that neared his, and she wore the Kiltias garb yet possessed none of the tranquility most Kiltias carried about them. There was a strap slung across her chest: the sheathe it connected to behind her carried a large silver axe. Her mouth was open as though she were breathing heavily and her eyes, though tired as well, were intense, searching for something in the crowd.

He was surprised when she looked back at him and relief overcame her features. Quickly she approached, almost running, but seemed to decide against it for the sake of a slower pace in which she could catch her breath.

"Uncle," she said, taking Harthas by the arm when she reached them. Her dark eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to check him for wounds. "Where have you been? I met Relj as soon as I arrived and she told me you were causing a ruckus among the Humes."

Harthas smiled excitedly at the young woman, taking no notice of or perhaps plainly ignoring her exasperation. "Tanis, the princesses are alive – as is Basch! Basch fon Ronsenburg!"

The young woman, Tanis, closed her eyes as though talk like this were a normal occurrence and sighed at Harthas. "I thought we'd gone over this, Uncle? They died two years ago. Maybe our countrymen will believe you…but the others will only laugh at you."

"No, no," said Harthas, shaking Tanis by the shoulders. "But this is no longer mere hope – it is reality, Tanis!"

At that moment, refusing to listen to her uncle any more, Tanis appeared to notice Basch and gave him an apologetic expression. "Was he telling _you_ these things? Please forgive my uncle, he—"

"Tanis!" Harthas bellowed. He hardly ever bellowed unless he was angry or knew he was absolutely correct about something. Tanis shut her mouth and waited, and Harthas's cheerful mien returned immediately. He motioned to Basch, saying, "This is Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg."

"My pleasure," said Basch politely, inclining his head, but Tanis could only blink at her uncle, Basch, and back at her uncle.

Upon seeing that her uncle was serious this time (not that he had ever made any claims of meeting those proclaimed dead on Bur-Omisace), Tanis returned Basch's cordiality. She wasn't certain if he was insane or just going along with his uncle or the true ex-Captain of Dalmasca, but perhaps it would be safer to humor her uncle, perhaps even to believe him until he was proven wrong. "No, the pleasure's all mine, Captain. Forgive me, I…I thought you were supposed to have been put to death."

"It is a long story, my dear," said Harthas, patting her lightly on the back as though he thought _she_ were a lunatic. "I shall explain soon."

"Yes," Tanis agreed, clearly eager to go about her business now that she was certain her uncle was causing no one trouble. "I'm off to aid the Kiltias with dinner. Maurden, Ieeha and I managed to slay _two_ Yeti. Meatier than fatty Crocs or little White Wolves—"

"Yes, we'll be feasting tonight!" Harthas exclaimed, though Basch thought it seemed rather forced. "Now run along, Tanis."

It was visible on Tanis's face that she was quite put out at the interruption, but the young woman merely sighed and disappeared once more into the crowd after bidding them good day.

"You never spoke of a niece, Harthas," said Basch.

Harthas watched Tanis walk away. "A sweet girl, to be sure. She, along with those who truly knew you, believes you did not murder your King. However, she has always preferred the axe to the pen, errands to studies, battles to councils…a fighter, at best. I'm uncertain as to where I made a mistake…"

Basch knew he hadn't meant to offend, but still he replied, "If fighting is her skill, I see no mistake."

Harthas glanced back at Basch sheepishly. "That isn't to say that fighters are of no merit, of course. But you have always been a warrior as well as an intellectual, Basch. My niece has no interest in matters of the state. But enough about that, now," he said, already tired just thinking of how unlike him Tanis was. "Tell me of your travels since your escape! We have much to speak of."

"Basch! Hey, Basch!"

Harthas tilted his head to the side to see which youth had called his friend and spotted a platinum blond running down from the pilgrimage area of Bur-Omisace. A girl ran after him, asking why he was in such a hurry, and four others followed: a man about the age of Tanis, a typical collected Viera beside him, a Rozarrian he remembered seeing earlier, and—"Lady Ashe!" he gasped. "Lady Anastacia!"

The rest caught up with Vaan, now preoccupied with asking Basch where he went because they had switched sacks by accident and the tents were with him, and as soon as they did, Ashe took one look at his companions and gasped.

"Lord Harthas?"

**XIIXIIXII**

If Al-Cid wasn't so accustomed to the attention a handsome Rozarrian prince often garnered, he would have been much more unnerved by Vaan's failed attempt at furtive glances.

He had been introduced to Ashelia and Anastacia's traveling party after they set up camp, and out of them all, Vaan had stared at him the most. Penelo came in a close second, though she looked away whenever he met her eyes and glanced less and less as time passed.

"Yeti?" Al-Cid finally asked Vaan during dinner, sitting beside the boy around a small campfire they built around their tents.

"Nah, I have my own," said Vaan, pointing to the plate at his feet as he took a chug of his water, still looking at Al-Cid.

Al-Cid gave Vaan a charming smile. "May I help you?"

Vaan took a bite of his share of yeti and chewed thoughtfully, irritation dashing across his mind (the prince was too handsome). When he was finished, he asked, "So you thought you were gonna marry Anya?"

A little ways beside him, Penelo sighed in embarrassment. "Vaan…" She glanced at Al-Cid briefly before looking away, unable to meet his gaze. "Sorry, prince."

"Please, call me Al-Cid. We are all friends here," said the Rozarrian prince. From Penelo, he had gotten the impression that Vaan speaking his thoughts (quite out of turn) was a natural occurrence and decided not to take offense. "My mother and father made me believe as much. Looking back on their actions, I see now that they knew all along that she was not truly promised to me – perhaps they hoped that King Perraen would think well of me if I managed to impress him enough, and that if I insisted, he would grant me the hand of the princess. My mother especially trained me to be quite resilient in the face of rejection."

"I see what you mean," Vaan said, and after receiving another nasty look from Penelo, added, "No offense." He hadn't meant any, to be honest. Penelo just kept taking everything the wrong way, but he was just glad they were 'talking' again.

"None taken," Al-Cid laughed. "But tell me, did you not sense at all the royal blood coursing through the veins of Ashe and Anastacia? Or recognize them by face? Did they not sing and dance during celebrations? I have seen Memstones of their performances."

"Not at all," said Vaan. "I didn't even think they could be royalty. Well, sometimes they talked weird, but I always chalked it up to them being weird."

Penelo sighed, waving away at Vaan. She was still somewhat embarrassed by the presence of a Rozarrian prince, but she told herself that she had already been in the company of the princesses of Dalmasca and Nabradia as well as the youngest Archadian prince – if Vaan wasn't daunted, then neither would she be. "In hindsight, maybe I should have seen the resemblance. Especially during that night in Jahara when Anya danced so well, I mean—"

"Anastacia danced before you?" Al-Cid asked hurriedly, eyes wide with wonder. But his excitement seemed forced to Vaan. "How lucky that you were there to witness a performance."

"She was good, yeah," Vaan offered anyway. "But do you really care?"

Al-Cid's eyebrows furrowed. "Of course, she—"

"Hello," a female voice interrupted. It was Tanis, the niece of Lord Harthas who had helped hunt the yeti. Her eyes said that she didn't really wanted to be there, and there was a forced smile on her lips. She wasn't a very good actress. "Uncle sent me to tell you there is still yeti, if you would like more. If you do, I suggest you take them now before we run out, no matter the crowded space on your plates. Your companions, Balthier and Basch, have already done so."

"I think we should take the lady up on her offer," Al-Cid said to Vaan, standing and dusting his trousers off. Even then he looked suave. "Thank you, Tanis."

"Would you like some, too?" Tanis asked Penelo, her apparent distress easing now that she had spoken with them.

"Vaan will take her plate and return with more for them both," said Al-Cid. Vaan stared at him for a moment before realizing his words. Taking Penelo's plate sheepishly, he followed the prince to where the Kiltias were serving yeti.

Penelo was alone with Tanis, who seemed friendly enough. She asked the older woman, "You're Nabradian too, aren't you, Tanis?"

Tanis, who had been staring mesmerizedly at the fire, snapped back to her senses. "Yes," she said. "Although I lived with Uncle Harthas in Rabanastre when he became the ambassador. The Lady Anastacia tells me you've lived there all your life. Penelo, yes?"

The girl nodded. "Anya mentioned me?"

"In passing."

"Oh. Did you two know each other before…"

"No," said Tanis, sparing Penelo the trouble of mentioning the total annihilation of Nabradia. "But my uncle was so happy that when he expressed his desire to introduce us, we couldn't dare not humor him. We found this to be a similarity and shared a laugh, which was when she asked if I had met your entire party, but she is still clearly unhappy about something. It wasn't my place to ask."

Only members of their party knew why, though Penelo wondered if oblivious Vaan did. Basch hadn't spoken with Anya since he had walked out of the Hall of the Light.

The sound of laughter trailing from behind interrupted their conversation.

"Such a precocious child," said Fran, coming upon the two women, followed by Balthier, carrying a young boy, and Ashe and Anya. "I knew one like him."

"Oh?" Ashe smirked at Balthier. "I don't find that hard to believe."

Balthier wore a scowl as he carried Marzen, Lady Beivinn's son. Anastacia's former governess was busy attending to the food, and while it was often Harthas who cared for her son, he was currently speaking with Basch, and Anya and Ashe had gladly taken the boy as their charge. Resigned to Anya's true character known to the rest, Fran and Balthier joined them (the latter more reluctantly, never having liked children all that much). How Fran managed to convince her partner to carry Marzen, even Anya knew not.

"I was already a _man_ when we met, I believe," Balthier defended himself.

"I'm man too," said Marzen, tapping his shoulder.

"Yes, you are," said Ashe, touching the boy's cheek in adoration.

Anya gave a short laugh. "This suits you, _Tatah_."

Balthier curled his lip while Fran smiled and turned to Penelo and Tanis. "You are finished with dinner?"

"Oh, no, Vaan's still getting me seconds," Penelo replied, shaking her head at Ashe's tiny smile.

"And Al-Cid?" asked Anya.

"The prince is with Vaan, Your Highness," Tanis answered stiffly, still uncomfortable with Ashe and Balthier's presence. Until a person spoke with her, which they hadn't, Harthas's imposing niece was quite shy. "In any case, I should leave you to your business."

"Bye, Nis," Marzen said with a wave of his tiny hand.

Tanis smiled, the first time anyone in the party had seen her genuinely pleased. "Goodbye, Marzen."

**XIIXIIXII**

When dinner came to an end, most of the party retired, with Vaan and Basch sharing a tent, Fran and Balthier another, and Penelo, Ashe and Anastacia in the last. But only the two sky pirates could find themselves any sleep. Vaan and Penelo went to visit Larsa, who was staying inside the Hall of the Light with the Gran Kiltias. Ashe and Basch needed time to think and separately went to walk along the top of Bur-Omisace, while Anya felt impelled to know the truth and visited Lady Beivinn in her tent.

Marzen was already asleep and Adela Beivinn was busy sewing. It was all she could do, now, when she didn't cook or help around the refugee camp. Anastacia remembered a woman who had raised her as a princess, who taught her how to read and write, and to see her reduced to being a housewife without a husband pained her with the reminder of what she, too, had become.

"Anastacia," said the real Adela when the Nabradian princess peeked her head into the tent. "Come in. What do you need?"

Anya thanked her and sat down, looking at all of Adela's belongings – which were few in number – and remembering the woman's room in her own castle long ago. "I couldn't sleep."

Adela smiled. "When you were still a child and Rasler was out with your father, you would go to my chambers and pull me out of bed to stay with you whenever you were scared. Do you remember?"

Anastacia returned her nostalgic gaze. "I do. You would sing me to sleep, and I would be jealous because you and Ashe could sing so well and I couldn't."

Adela laughed. "And you would always tell Rasler not to marry a girl who couldn't dance as well as you."

"I'm glad he did anyway."

Adela's mirth faded into a small smile. Anastacia couldn't tell she was anxious, but Adela could tell that her former charge had been in deep thought since they met, and knew that if their good rapport was to keep up, she had to steer the conversation away from such heaviness. But she owed Anastacia – and Ashe – her honesty. She had cried for nights thinking of how she was unable to apologize to her princess, and now that she was here she knew she should. But the thought of Anastacia's anger was terrifying.

"Adela," Anastacia started after along silence, and the former governess knew she could no longer prevent it. "What happened? How did the Archadians get ahold of the Midlight Shard? When I heard of father's destruction, I…" The thought of it sent Anya's voice shaking. This was why they never spoke of the past. "I was certain you had died. Did they torture you? Did they hurt you, Adela?"

Adela took a deep breath. "No," she finally replied after many more. She clasped her hands as they shook. She used to tell Anastacia not to do it – it made her anxiety more obvious, but they weren't in the castle anymore. They were two old friends, one with a grave sin against the other. "You must listen, Anastacia…"

Anastacia started at Adela's hand on hers. Her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "I am listening."

Adela looked pained. This was a confession she had practiced many times, but she had never thought she would actually see Anastacia again. It sounded foolish now, as foolish as she had been those two years ago. "Your father sent me to Nalbina to keep the Shard safe. I lived there in obscurity for a month. One afternoon, I met a man. He called himself Foris."

Anya appeared not to recognize the name and urged her to go on.

"I should have known then…his charming smile, his witty repartee, his handsome face…but I was foolish. I lived simply in Nalbina; it was nothing like life in the castle. I didn't think anybody would recognize me. We became friends. He claimed he was a traveling merchant, but his shipments had been delayed and he was waiting. We met almost every day, and soon I fell in love with him."

Anastacia withdrew her hand. She was curious to know what happened, but she had a sinking feeling…

"We...became lovers," Adela Beivinn admitted. "He let the shipments slip from his mind and made new business, setting up shop near where I lived. After many months, almost half a year, I thought…I thought I…"

"You thought _what_?" Anastacia asked, her voice rising.

"I thought I could trust him. I told him of the Midlight Shard. He said nothing, expressing only little surprise. I was so happy to have finally found someone who could share my secret, someone I loved—"

"What happened."

Adela winced. "He set out one day, to gather supplies, I thought. When he didn't return, the Midlight Shard…"

"And then my father died," Anastacia said quietly. "You betrayed my family and…my father died…because of _you_?"

"Forgive me, Anastacia—"

"All this time," Anastacia breathed heavily, her entire body shaking, "All this time, I mourned for you, thinking you must have had a terrible fate in the hands of the Archadian Empire, because I told myself you would never have betrayed us! And…" Anya was screaming now, her voice becoming hoarse. "And you did!"

Tears spilled from Adela's eyes. She seemed just as surprised at them as anyone watching her might have been, but she wiped them away hurriedly. "Princess—"

"Don't call me that," Anastacia hissed and moved away, just as much in tears as the woman before her. "You betrayed my family. You betrayed Nabradia… My people died… Papa _died_ because of you!"

Marzen stirred, his eyes opening at the foreign sound of angry shouting. "Mama…?"

"Go back to sleep, Marzen," Adela said to her son, gently stroking his arm. And then, "Anastacia, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but—"

"You don't," Anastacia finished, and exited the tent. Marzen watched in wonder as his mother wept.

**XIIXIIXII**

The commotion had been loud enough to wake the surrounding tents. Basch himself had only recently returned, and saw Anastacia stalk out of Adela Beivinn's tent in tears. Shoulders drooped, hand over her mouth, tears past her hand, her body shaking. He longed to hold her.

Even in her anguish, Anastacia felt eyes on her back and turned to see Basch staring at her with a tender gaze he had not granted her since he discovered her identity that afternoon. She longed for the safety of his arms again. She wondered if she should go to him, ask for forgiveness, because she needed someone to hold her now. Adela's betrayal was something she had never expected.

But Basch turned away. He should be angry with her for lying for so long, he remembered. But that look in her eyes, that sadness… He had heard everything from the tent. Anastacia understood his anger and made herself scarce. The sight of sorrow engulfing the woman his king had once hoped he would love, the woman he had learned to love despite the sky piracy, however, shattered the last of Basch's crumbling willpower. He couldn't stay away from her.

When he rounded the tents to see hers, she was standing outside her tent and sobbing. Al-Cid had his hands on her shoulders. He was leaning in to embrace her—

Basch wouldn't see it happen. He walked away, returning to his tent, when a familiarly harsh voice stopped him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Ashe was glaring at him with her arms crossed.

Basch was silent. He was tired and he didn't want to explain himself. Her anger directed towards him seemed perfunctory now, something he no longer attempted to correct.

"Anastacia needs you now," Ashe continued. "I know you heard – as did we all."

"She seems content in Al-Cid's comfort," Basch replied.

Ashe stared at him for a second before realizing he wouldn't budge. "You're a fool, Basch," she said, and disappeared from his sight.

Basch had gone too soon. Anastacia slithered out of Al-Cid's way before he could touch her. She longed to return to her simple life as the thief among their infamous pirate trio, where Basch wasn't furious with her for lying and she and Balthier fought about dancing and shooting practice and Fran mediated and the memory she swore to forget was of a loyal, strict but loving governess and not a woman who became a traitor for love. Anya turned her eyes to him guardedly. "I am not the girl you admired in paintings and memstone recordings. You know that."

Al-Cid's courteous smile became lopsided with realization. "Yes," he said, stepping away. "Forgive me, my lady."

Anastacia ignored him and retreated into her tent. Ashe followed suit, exchanging an acknowledging nod with Al-Cid, whose lingering gaze on her went unnoticed. The Dalmascan princess found her Nabradian counterpart shaking, hugging her knees against her head. She herself had never been one to cry before anyone else, save for the tears she let slip during Rasler's funeral, but Anastacia had always worn her heart on her sleeve. Ashe would never have thought that Anya was the type to even cry; she, Balthier and Fran appeared accustomed to achieving their goals, and if they didn't they seemed only to shrug their shoulders and move on. The past two years of practiced nonchalance must have been taxing on Anya, as rushing towards Archadia and assassinating Vayne Solidor was to her.

"Here, Anastacia," Ashe whispered, embracing her sister. Anya accepted her comfort, turning to rest her damp face on the shoulder offered by Ashe, who stayed with her until she fell asleep. Ashelia mourned for her father-in-law and his people before Penelo arrived, and though she felt enveloped by sorrow, having Anastacia near gave her that small feeling of being in the Golden ages of their kingdoms again.

**XIIXIIXII**

It was coldest during the mornings on Bur-Omisace, and even without a breeze picking at his hair, Basch felt a shiver run up his spine. He warmed himself before a bonfire, siting on an uneven mound of land and rubbing his hands together. Vaan was still asleep, having returned late last night from their visit to Larsa, whom he'd mentioned was more quiet than ever, though he tried not to be. Basch felt for the boy, who had never spoken an ill word to him despite the rumors his own brother had created, but perhaps it was because his nationality and the general scorn that the party once showered on him gave them a common ground he recognized.

Fran and Balthier were up before sunrise, already up and moving about when he stepped out of his tent. They were preparing for the journey ahead to the Stilshrine, the pirate captain informed him as he collected supplies the Kiltias offered them. Fran had said nothing to him, and Basch didn't doubt that the Viera knew what had transpired the night previous.

"Excuse me."

Tanis possessed a deep voice, still a woman's but certainly no longer a young girl's. It startled him and Basch almost felt irritated at the intrusion, but he was only easily provoked now because he was tired and the thought of Anya allowing Al-Cid to even come close to her again spiked an anger within him that even Noah hadn't inspired. He wanted to storm Al-Cid's tent at the thought, but that wasn't him at all, and who knew what Anastacia truly felt? He had loved her despite her identity as a sky pirate. Numb to the Garif rings kept deep in his pocket, he felt a sudden sorrow clinching his heart. Anya couldn't have lied to him about her love, could she?

"Excuse—"

"Yes?" Basch turned to the young woman. "What is it, Tanis?"

The only indication Tanis gave of noticing his intended curtness was her quirked brow, but she continued, holding out a plate of food. "Uncle says you need sustenance."

"I thank Harthas for his concern, but I am not in the mood for a meal. That is better saved for the refugees."

"Thoughtful," said Tanis, "but Uncle bade me not to return until you'd taken the plate."

Basch shook his head. "Harthas will understand – I am not hungry."

Tanis stared at the former captain. She had watched them from afar the previous night, when she wasn't shaking her head at Ieeha's futile attempts to convince Relj the Viera that she should dine with them. She had seen the Nabradian princess and the way she looked at him, and how the Rozarrian prince had reached her before Basch could. Tanis didn't understand romance and hoped not to have to for a long time, but she knew enough to tell that Basch's sour mood was because of Anastacia.

"It isn't my place," she ventured, thinking she should just walk away because she barely knew them, and because Ieeha had attempted to pair up many Kiltias together and failed with terrible results several times, but she wanted to rest and give him the food before Anastacia and Ashelia returned from the Hall of the Light and her uncle would no doubt talk her into servitude. "But last night…"

Basch glanced up with a steely look, as though agreeing that it wasn't her place at all, but it disappeared at her own startled expression. "I saw you," Tanis said. "And the Lady Anastacia. She thwarted any attempts at affection by Lord Al-Cid quite sharply."

Basch started, but poked a stick into the fire with feigned nonchalance. "Did she?"

Tanis nodded. "I thought it might interest you to know…" She turned to leave.

Basch held an arm out. He wanted to hear more. "Wait—"

Tanis made an about-face that would have made Vossler proud and placed the plate on Basch's outstretched hand. "Rest assured, the princess has no designs upon the prince whatsoever," she said, and departed before Basch could return the plate.

The former captain didn't appreciate being tricked into eating, but that wasn't the issue now. Taking a bite into breakfast, he felt himself smile. No designs upon the prince whatsoever. His grin only fell when he remembered Ashe and her accurate words.

_You're a fool._

To his surprise, Vaan soon stepped out of their tent looking well-slept. He took one glance at Basch's plate and dashed off, up past the rest of the tents and towards Tanis, who sat sharpening her axe by a rock face that looked like a dragon's head. The boy knew better than to comment about it, given the Elder Wyrm events nights ago, and simply approached the calm Nabradian. It felt odd, thinking there were any real Nabradians left. The ones in Rabanastre were Dalmascans now – or Archadians, depending on how people looked at it. But they would find a solution to that soon.

"Hey, Tanis," he greeted, giving his head a brief scratch. Getting up early was weird, but he'd had the weirdest dream about fruit juice and Tomaj and this was probably for the best. "Uh, where did Basch get breakfast?"

Tanis set her axe down and rose to her feet, motioning towards a line of refugees forming from a table beside a Kiltias distributing food. Wiping her hands on the towel on her shoulder, she said, "Let me fetch some for you."

"No, no, it's fine," Vaan said, feeling incredibly queasy at the thought of her serving him that way. The servants in the Ondore estate were fine, but he didn't think someone like Tanis should get him food. He already felt odd enough around her muscles, which weren't as big as his or Basch's or Balthier's but were prominent enough even on her thin arms compared to the rest of the girls in their party. "I'll get it myself. Where's everyone else?"

Tanis shrugged at his refusal and returned to her seat. "Fran and Balthier are collecting supplies. The princesses are in the Hall of the Light speaking with the Gran Kiltias, and Penelo, I believe, is the only one still resting. Lord Al-Cid isn't in the refugee area."

"All right, thanks," Vaan said, grinning at Tanis before falling in line for food. Now he was certain that Mount Bur-Omisace had nothing in store for their party but surprises or unusual encounters. Then again, what part of their journey could be classified as normal? First, dead people were really alive, then undead existed, evading bounty hunters wasn't as glamorous as the stories said, monsters the size of buildings and ancient relics coming to life, one insurgent and one pirate were princesses, and now Penelo was the last to wake up? He needed breakfast to swallow it all like he did every morning.

"Vaan, wasn't it?"

Vaan glanced beside him and saw the old man Basch and Ashe and Anastacia were talking to each at separate moments, the old man who was Tanis's uncle. "Lord…Harthas?"

Harthas nodded. "I admit I'm surprised to see a young lad like yourself so early…but might I speak with you?"

"Sure," Vaan replied. "I'm just standing here. Waiting in line."

Harthas smiled. "Lord Basch mentioned this about you. I would like to know, Vaan, if you would permit me to ask, what your plans are after Archadia has loosed its claws from the kingdoms?"

"What? What did Basch say about me?" Vaan asked suspiciously. He didn't think Basch would say anything bad about him, considering he found him 'profound', but he hated it when people left him hanging this way. When the old man didn't reply, he figured he might as well answer the question. "I don't know…guess I haven't really thought about it. Dalmasca's gonna need a lot of help changing after Ashe settles in as Queen, right?"

Harthas nodded. "And how do you plan to aid her?"

Vaan's eyebrows furrowed. Why the questions? He wasn't accustomed to being asked about himself, about his thoughts like this. It made him uncomfortable. "Like I said…I don't know. I want to help Ashe rebuild the kingdom, but I want to explore the world, too… What about you?" He gave Harthas a once-over. He stood so regally now that it was difficult to imagine him as the shouting old man they noticed on the way to the temple grounds the day previous. "You were Nabradian, right? What's going to happen to you guys?"

Harthas lowered his eyes. "We've no plans for Nabradia yet. With Ashe reinstated we might have had a chance to have Lord Larsa persuade Gramis to at least purge Nabradian lands of the Mist that has engulfed it, but with Vayne as the new Emperor…one task at a time. Dalmasca comes first."

"I think we can do it," Vaan said, moving up in line. He would be next to receive. "We've done pretty well so far, right? We just have to get this…Sword of Kings? And see what happens from there."

Harthas raised his eyes back to Vaan and smiled. "You are hopeful. Moreso than Basch, but just as true a friend. The princesses are fortunate to have you."

"Huh?" Vaan repeated the words in his mind while Harthas saw that he was next in line and motioned for him to leave as he bade hm goodbye. "Oh…thanks," he called after the man when he realized he heard him right, but he was already gone.

**XIIXIIXII**

Ashe waited for Anastacia outside the Hall of the Light. Anastasis had requested a brief amount of time to speak with her before they left, and Ashe would always gladly honor the Gran Kiltias, who sent a warm letter filled with blessings and congratulations when she and his great grand-nephew had married. Her eyes followed the Kiltias purposely striding by. She could imagine them having been more tranquil, once; idle, even. But there was so much to do now, as Tanis had quietly explained last night. When they weren't hunting food in the Paramina Rift, they were attempting to adjust the tents so as to accommodate more and more refugees – and then they would hunt again, but with the burden of returning with more food, this time. She could barely remember a time unlike this.

"Why so morose, princess?"

Ashe looked up absentmindedly, recognizing the voice only when she saw who possessed it. "Al-Cid," she said, straining her neck to see his face. The sun behind him blinded her to his countenance, so she scooted to the right and allowed him some space on the steps. "I was only thinking. What brings you here?"

"I was told you and Anastacia were summoned by His Grace Anastasis," Al-Cid replied, taking a seat beside her. Even then, he towered over her. "I did not expect to see you out here, alone."

"The Gran Kiltias wished for a word with Anastacia," Ashe shrugged.

Silence. Ashe didn't think Al-Cid was capable of it, and after a minute or so she was proven right. "I thought…I might accompany you to the Stilshrine of Miriam. What is another sword arm, yes?"

Al-Cid couldn't read her eyes. He wondered what she saw in that distant gaze of hers, but they were not nearly friends enough for him to ask, though of all people he might get away with such a bold question.

"No," Ashe said, finally, when he thought he'd lost her. "That would be ill-advised. With Larsa staying behind, if news were to spread that you were in our party…" She glanced at him and, for a brief moment, saw hurt in his blue eyes, but when she blinked, there was only light amusement left. She didn't understand men. "You understand."

"Of course," Al-Cid said, bowing while seated. He added with an unsure smile, "Not to mention…I might cause a little more trouble with Basch fon Ronsenburg, no?" At the wary turn of Ashe's eyes, he laughed. "I have mentioned it to no one. But I'd heard rumors of the kindness of the kingslayer, and when he barely showed cordial acknowledgment this morning…I thought I might have caused a rift between him and Anastacia."

"You did," Ashe said, and was relieved to be able to tell _some_one. Her promise to Basch held her tongue back even with Penelo, but Al-Cid already knew. There was a difference. After a pause, she asked, "Do you truly love Anastacia?"

Al-Cid answered that easily. "No," he said, meeting her gaze. "In my boyish youth, I fell for those memstone recordings and pretty portraits. They painted her as the ideal princess, filled with life and vigor and possessing a love for dance, as I did. Her people loved her, and I fell in love with the thought that my people would find it as easy to love her as they did. She was dainty, dependent, and helpless."

Ashe found herself frowning. "And when you found that she was not, you were disappointed?"

Al-Cid deflected her offense with a laugh. "The opposite. She is still the same Anastacia from the recordings…but she has no more fight in her."

"She is a sky pirate," said Ashe, though she didn't want to remember it. "She is hardly helpless."

"That is not what I meant," Al-Cid replied, shaking his head vigorously as though it would help his case. "When she woke in my tent after she was found in the Paramina, we spoke. She had no desire to return as Anastacia, though she was eager to return to your side. She has no fight left," the prince repeated. "Whereas Basch fon Ronsenburg has all the fight left in Ivalice. She needs him as an anchor to guide her back to the real world, where he needs her to fuel his hope. I have not the patience he does. I fell in love with a vision, and it has faded from sight. I only hope I am forgiven for my intrusion."

Ashe chuckled. "That seems a task, for now. I've never seen Basch this way."

"I depend upon his renowned kindness, sooner or later," Al-Cid shrugged. "In the meantime, I will stay with Larsa. Our young friend has lost enough."

Ashe sighed. "Compared to Vayne, Gramis was an innocent man."

"Truly," Al-Cid agreed. "I am only sorry my brother and I cannot join you in your battle. An-Cyre, now our eldest, is often compared with him, and while his subterfuge is unmatched, I daresay he has none of the man's cunning."

"The eldest?" Ashe thought out loud, "I'd thought…oh, yes. Forgive me, I'd—"

Al-Cid smiled, allowing her moment of forgetfulness to pass. "Just as the two eldest of the Solidor brothers, ours, too, died during the war. A sad similarity is that the four were slain by the same Archadian force."

"Vayne Solidor."

Al-Cid nodded. "He is ruthless. One can see why my mother is eager to throw our nation into the tides of war, if he is the enemy."

"Your mother?" Ashe asked with obvious wonder.

"A great and inspiring woman," said Al-Cid, smiling again. "You remind me of her. But with a heart."

Ashe blinked. She'd never been compared with the Empress of Rozarria before. She had known the Empress's reputation carried one of great respect, but she would never imagine that the woman's own son would call her heartless. And Ashe had so looked up to her, admiring her steadfastness, especially when her eldest sons died. "Thank you…?"

Al-Cid shrugged again. "Don't lose it," he said, standing and dusting his trousers preciously. "Without it, you are only another politician."

"Yes," she said, remembering all those wishes for a stone heart. "You're right. Thank you, Al-Cid."

The doors to the Hall of the Light shut, and heavy steps not meant to interrupt plodded towards them. Ashe stood, too, looking back to greet a pallid Anastacia. "Are you all right?"

Anastacia shook her colors back and nodded. "I'm sorry to have made you wait. Hello, Al-Cid."

"Greetings, princess," said Al-Cid, his voice carrying that tone again, smooth and silky and not at all present when they'd spoken earlier. Ashe didn't have time to decide which tone was genuine. "Are you ready to leave?"

"When the others are," Anastacia replied absentmindedly. When she reached their step, she turned to them. "Ashelia, is it all right if I…?"

"Go ahead," Ashe replied, nudging her head in the direction of the refugee area. She hated seeing her in such a daze. It wasn't her at all.

Anastacia nodded gratefully and broke into a sprint as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Kiltias watched her curiously as she went; the temple grounds were hardly the place for such noise, but she was a common sight once she reached the refugee area. Tanis was there beside the dragon head mountain face, still sharpening her blade as she'd been doing when they passed her that morning.

"Tanis," she said, panting, "have you seen Basch?"

"He was eating breakfast when I saw him last, Your Highness," Tanis replied, glancing up only to meet her eyes respectfully, and then lowered her head again to admire the sharp shine of her axe.

"Thank you," she muttered before dashing off to the fire near the tent Basch and Vaan shared, but it was already extinguished. Still, there sat Penelo, cross-legged and drumming her fingers patiently on her thighs while humming a silent tune. The girl smiled pleasantly when their eyes met, as though Penelo was accustomed to the state of her appearance after running. Then again, they weren't traveling friends for nothing.

"Anya, I mean, Anastacia," Penelo greeted. "You're done speaking with the Gran Kiltias?"

"We are," Anya nodded, throwing a thumb back to motion to the temple grounds. "Ashe is speaking with Al-Cid. Where is Vaan?"

"Getting breakfast…for me," Penelo said, as though it sounded ridiculous. "Weird, right? But Balthier says I should take advantage of Vaan actually offering to do something for me."

"As it should be," Anya said, sparing enough time for a smile, and then turned her head to shuffling sounds in Vaan's tent. "Oh!" She grinned, staring behind Penelo. "There he is."

"Where?" Penelo whirled, but saw only the familiar faces of refugees surrounding the upper tents. When she glanced back, Anya was gone.

**XIIXIIXII**

Basch laid out the party's items in a neat arrangement, starting with healing items on top and offensive items at the bottom. He was quiet as he placed them into the item sack, spacing everything so as to lighten the load. He paused every so often, making sure he remembered where he placed each item, and nodded to himself reassuringly when he was finished with the offensive items. He was about to start with healing items when he felt something behind him.

"Anya," he breathed when he turned to look. "Anastacia," he corrected himself after a second of her continuing to stare at him. Fran was right; she could be a shadow when she wanted to be.

Finally, she was unable to hold his gaze. "Basch," she muttered, staring now at his hands. "What…what can I do?"

Basch's heart softened a little more. He'd resolved to overlook last night's events, but even Anastacia knew she had made a mistake. "You…hid the truth from me," he said, resisting the temptation to hold her clenched, shaking hand. "I trusted you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lips trembling. Her voice wavered when she spoke, "I…I would have told you…eventually, I…think. I wasn't ready."

Basch held his ground before her trembling figure. "Who did I fall in love with?" he asked quietly, in a cool manner that broke her heart. "Was it Anya? Anastacia? Adela? Or another altogether?"

"What's in a name?" she asked, glancing up at him. He remembered those words in Lowtown, when that Resistance member was angry with her for lying to him, too. She reached for his hand and pressed her lips to his knuckles, beginning to cry. "You fell in love with _me_, Basch. What I showed you I'd shown no one else before!"

Basch glanced away, in deep thought.

Anastacia dropped his hand and saw that he wouldn't budge. Wiping her eyes, she regained her composure and stabled her breathing before speaking again. "I'm sorry, Basch."

He grabbed her hand before she could escape again, whirling her back to him. "Did you love me?"

"Yes," she said desperately, approaching him on her knees. She pressed his palm against her cheek. "I've loved you ever since I laid eyes on you atop that cathedral, Basch, even when the wind whipped at my vision and there death drew poised at my feet."

Basch felt a pang surge through his heart. He removed her hand from his and took her into his arms as he should have, as he would have had Archadia not had its way, and he figured she fit more in his arms than she ever would in Al-Cid's. "No more lies," he whispered gruffly into her ear.

"Yes," she promised, pushing away from him and looking into his eyes. "None. Ever again."

There was something about her swearing to break her habit all for his forgiveness, when she needed nothing from him, that drew Basch in and made him lose sense of the moment. He pulled her towards him and kissed her full on the lips, worlds different from a few nights before in the Jahara camp.

Anastacia dismissed her surprise quickly and met his sudden vigor head on, as though she'd been waiting for it all this time without even knowing. She savored his hitched breaths and the sweat forming on his forehead as she brushed her hands through his hair, and as she pushed him down, climbing on top of him, keeping her mouth on his, she felt his hands on her waist.

Basch rolled to his right, reversing their positions. He straddled her by the hips, stroking his thumb against her face as they kissed. When they pulled away for the third time to breathe, he opened his eyes and saw her disheveled sandy hair and suddenly plump lips, pink and somewhat swollen from his kisses. Something already stirring within him grew stronger, and when she opened her eyes to gaze at him in confusion, it confused him in turn how she both pulled his heart closer and broke the spell at the same time.

"Basch?" Anastacia sat up when he lifted himself from her. "What's wrong?"

Basch turned to her and neared his face to hers, pecking her lips lightly. "You cannot imagine how much I love you," he answered, giving her smiling mouth another kiss, one gentler, like their first. "Should you tempt me..." Pulling away, he shook his head.

"I trust you," Anastacia replied, embracing Basch, imprinting the moment in her memory forever. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world. "With myself, I trust no one but you. I love you, Basch."

Basch had decided to steal one last kiss when Vaan crawled in, saying, "Hey, Basch, have you—oh."

Basch and Anastacia pulled away, the former blinking numerous times and the latter smiling sheepishly. "Vaan," Anya spoke first. "Did you need something?"

"Uh…" Vaan grinned slightly at her before continuing with a serious tone. "Fran and Balthier were looking for Basch. Something about our stuff." His eyes traveled to the other end of the tent; everything Basch had arranged, they'd pushed away into a messy heap. Anastacia blushed. Vaan looked thoughtful. "Right. What do I tell them?"

"I'll see them in a moment," Basch replied, and Vaan flashed a thumbs up and scurried out as quickly as he could. Basch turned to Anastacia and asked, "Vaan knows?"

"He had his suspicions. After seeing us in Eruyt, he became certain, but promised to keep it a secret."

"Hmm. Ashe knows as well."

"Ashe?" Anya gave a short laugh even as her eyes widened. "She gave no indication!"

"She is a good friend, and I am thankful for her forgiveness."

"There was nothing to forgive," said Anastacia, resting her head on his shoulder and breathing him in.

Basch leaned his head on hers. "What do you plan to do now?"

"I don't know," Anastacia admitted. "Speak with Lady Beivinn, perhaps. I should accept her apology…but I'm uncertain if I can forgive her. She…She was the reason my kingdom fell to ruin, Basch. We might have been conquered, but not obliterated, and my father and Rasler…"

"You needn't explain yourself," Basch whispered, stroking her hair. "Now…"

Anastacia understood and moved to crawl out of the tent, shooting him a last smile. "Don't make _Amba _and _Tatah_ wait."

**XIIXIIXII**

They fell into step at the circle as though they had been meant to, two by two. Balthier and Fran had been waiting with Penelo and Vaan as soon as they finished packing. Basch had left them earlier to accompany Anastacia as she spoke with Adela, and they arrived next. Harthas had insisted that Tanis join the party on account of her skills with an axe, but Ashe could read the expression on Tanis's face and said his niece was better off serving them here, in Bur-Omisace, keeping Harthas and the others safe and supporting them while they were away. Tanis, who'd picked up Larsa from the Hall of the Light as per his request, stepped into the circle with the prince. Ashe and Al-Cid followed last, having only been speaking in the temple grounds, and when they were complete, Balthier spoke.

"Finally."

"My apologies," said Larsa. "I gave Tanis some trouble waking me."

"It was no trouble," Tanis said.

Balthier grunted his forgiveness – the closest he would come to compassion for the death of Gramis, Larsa understood – and took a sweeping glance at everyone. "Is everyone ready? We'll not return until we have that…" he waved a hand with affected exasperation.

"Sword of Kings," Ashe corrected him, though by now she was accustomed to his dismissive attitude and smirked it away.

"Yes," Balthier sighed, wondering why he was really participating in this. "Now, let's be off. It'd be nice to get back before dinner."

"Yeah, do you think we'll have Yeti again?" Vaan asked Tanis. "That was great!"

Tanis appeared pleased by this. "The Kiltias and I will try our best. Uncle bids his goodbye; the Gran Kiltias summoned him at the last minute."

Al-Cid placed a hand on Ashe's shoulder, though he addressed them all. "Larsa and I will remain here with them. Be safe, my friends."

"And you," Basch replied for them, nodding his acknowledgment. Al-Cid exchanged glances with Ashe, but said nothing.

"Right. We'll see you later, Larsa," Vaan said to his friend, giving his back a good thump. Larsa smiled in agreement, and the party set off on Chocobo the Kiltias had gathered for them, feeling as though they hadn't traveled in a very long time.

Balthier had almost forgotten how quiet the Paramina Rift was. In Bur-Omisace, it was all fuss about the living princesses and Basch the _not_-Kingslayer because how could he be a Kingslayer if the princesses were at his side, and prince Larsa the gracious Archadian and Al-Cid the charming Rozarrian, and something about the Nethicite Nine (ridiculous name) questing to save the world from the wrath of Vayne Solidor. For all his vexing mystery and despite his dramatic reveal about Anastacia, he'd liked the Gran Kiltias. He preferred quiet, which Balthier, too, preferred on days like this, and the incense in his receiving hall was a scent his mother loved around the manse when he was a child.

Balthier's eyebrow furrowed. He didn't often think of being a child again, but so long as it was only in thought, he supposed it wasn't a danger to any in their cast. He'd always heard that the Gran Kiltias made one feel that way.

Penelo loosened the bands on her hair and allowed her strawberry blonde locks to fall past her neck. She hadn't had her hair cut in forever and it was growing, but today it was for the better. Despite how bright the sun was that day, the wind brought about by their racing Chocobo brought a cold breath that snaked through her hood and into her thick Nanna jacket, freezing her arm hairs and causing them to stand.

It was worse for Anya, who was never able to recover her wig and was dismayed to find that wig production was not as popular in Bur-Omisace as it was in Jahara and the cities, and whose neck shivered from the sudden cold. Even as Anastacia she had never donned short hair; it was understandable for Ashe, who lived along the deserts of Dalmasca, to do so, but in their forest river kingdom she was a long-haired princess, straight Nabradian hair past her chest that gave her warmth during winter and hairstyles Rasler always poked fun at during summer. With Balthier and Fran at the head of the party, however, she was free to sit behind Basch and take as much warmth from his back as she wanted, and felt exhausted from her talks with the Gran Kiltias and Adela Beivinn enough that she fell asleep.

Ashe was as hopeful as they had ever seen during the journey, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed with excitement and a confident smile on her poised lips. A weapon to destroy the god-stones, as Belias had called them, a weapon that would strip Vayne of his advantage and put him on equal ground with the rebel armies. Of course, Al-Cid didn't intend for anything to get that far – and despite how bizarre his mannerisms were, she agreed with him. Vayne would be defeated; she could stop the war before it bloomed as the Empires and her own Uncle intended it. With the Sword of Kings in her grasp and Anastacia, Rasler's remembrance, at her side, she would find her kingdom free soon enough.

Only Vaan and Penelo worried still for Larsa. He was a prince, and they understood now that royalty was forced to maintain some sort of cool, unaffected mask for the sake of the public instead of showing tears, weakness. They understood now that Ashe chose the anger and spite of a rebel princess, that Anastacia chose the confident shrug of a sky pirate, that Larsa chose propriety and a calm smile over outward grief concerning his father's death. It was no longer so difficult to imagine that their friends were bound by the _exigencies of position_, as Vaan remembered Ondore mentioning, and that this journey was more than a simple escape from the trite workings of life in Rabanastre.

Fran was quiet. Only she noticed that there were no white wolves, no yeti, no beasts to be found even as they sped through the snowy mountain pass. Beasts only retreated to their homes when a storm was about to approach, but given the lack of clouds in the sky she could hardly believe this was the case. She kept an eye out, expecting some Trickster or great Wyrm to befall them at any moment, but as they reached the Stilshrine of Miriam there was nothing but peace and quiet, so much that she found herself frowning.

The tranquility was so soothing in the path towards the Stilshrine that the Chocobo were dismounted and winterwear removed immediately. If the gods lived anywhere in the world, Vaan thought, their estates would look something like this. There wasn't a speckle of snow in sight, it was sunny but the temperature was just perfect, and lining the path was a wall built to appear like a weak waterfall, almost like a slowly leaking dam so that the sound of running water was constant and Penelo wanted to do nothing but feel the clear liquid in between her fingers and cast Water spells all day.

The pillars supporting the bridge were carved with ancient writing, a familiar sight from the Tomb of Raithwall, but instead of protective magick meant to ward away, to bring demon walls to life, Fran felt as though the carvings meant nothing. There was nothing to be seen here, no hostile being, just the beauty of the light and the water and the fall colors, buff as a base and then russet, citrine, persimmon, on the ground, the dam, the pillars, so breathtaking that she wanted to sit down and rest against Balthier's shoulder as she did in their happiest days, with the sound of Nono and Anya's laughter in the background. Balthier carried the same sentiments and squeezed her hand in his.

Anastacia had awoken a little ways before they found the Stilshrine and yawned as she rubbed her eyes, walking forward without so much as a glance at her surroundings. She heard the running water and smiled, feeling that there was nothing more to be done in this place, and when she tripped on her own sandal in her languid traipsing, she caught herself on Basch's arm. She had always been drawn to his warmth and didn't remove her hand, smoothing her fingers over the muscle he had built over the years, not so easily lost by maltreatment in two. Basch furrowed his eyebrows, remembering it must be forbidden before Fran and Balthier, but soon gave in to the shiver and moved his arm so that his fingers pressed against where her neck and shoulder met, guiding her forward.

Ashe watched them all curiously from behind, pulling her Chocobo along even as it slowed, as her companions and their mounts slowed. Something was amiss, and as vocal as Rasler and Anastacia's teasing had taught her to be, she spoke. "What are you doing?" she asked, her first frown that day. To their left and right, statues of a man with his arms crossed sat on a stone throne, and for a moment she thought they might have moved, but Ashe pressed on. "This is a long path. If we must rest, let us first find the Kiltias at the doors and have them care for the Chocobo."

"Later, Ashe," Penelo sang sweetly, kneeling down to touch the flowing water she discovered lining the edges of the bridge itself. "It's perfect here."

"Yeah," Vaan agreed, reaching out and touching Penelo's hair. "I think we should rest first. Now. Here."

"My thoughts exactly," said Balthier, turning around with Fran. "Thoughts, Captain?"

Basch simply smiled. "Vaan is right," he said, and stopped to sit down beside Anya, who had already lain down on her back.

Horror filled Ashe's face. "Have you all gone mad?" she asked genuinely. "Get up, all of you! Didn't we agree to rest only when we found the Sword of Kings?"

"Calm down, Ashelia," Anya laughed, glancing at her from her position on the ground. "Just for a little while."

"Or forever," Penelo suggested.

"Yes," Fran agreed.

"You too, Fran?" Ashe released her Chocobo's reins, not that it mattered – it, too, had stopped and gone to sleep. She shook Anastacia, who returned her panicked countenance with a blank smile. "Wake up, Anastacia, Basch!"

The rest were quiet, and now, without their soothing beckoning, Ashe felt the magick pull stronger at her senses. She should rest. The thought alarmed Ashe and she stood, backed into her Chocobo, looking for anything that might keep her from succumbing to the stupor that had overcome the others. Something edgy reached her fingers in one of the saddle pockets of her Chocobo, sending her energy into a frenzy and jolting her awake.

The Dawn Shard, in all its powerless glory.

Ashe kept it close and approached the others again, but felt no more languid than a Chocobo on freshly rooted gysahl greens. Gingerly, she touched Fran with the Stone.

Fran's glassy eyes cleared. Her eyes traveled from her hand, interlocked with Balthier's, to Ashe, the others, and the Dawn Shard on her shoulder. "Ashe?"

"Oh, thank the gods," Ashe said with such relief that she embraced Fran. Although she was a pirate who put up with Balthier much too easily for her comfort, the Viera had always been someone Ashe looked up to as an older female figure. It had frightened her to see Fran succumb to whatever magick had removed their senses.

Fran touched Ashe's back, surprised at the princess's show of familiarity with her but giving no indication of her shock. "What happened?"

Ashe kept the Stone near Fran. "We left the pass, and…you all acted strangely, speaking as if we should rest here forever. It must be ancient magick, but as the Dawn Shard was with me…I was unaffected. We must find a way to reach the Stilshrine and keep our consciousness."

**XIIXIIXII**

Something was wrapped tightly around her waist, and suddenly she remembered everything. That vicious green Bangaa, his snarling, something about a Balthier – but she knew Balthier, he was with Fran, and Anya, who was actually Anastacia, who knew Ashe. But that didn't matter, because she was kidnapped and the weight on her waist was tightening and all she could do was scream.

"Penelo!" Ashe gasped, running to her and slapping her slightly on the face. "Penelo, you're safe! Penelo!"

Penelo kicked and struggled until color flooded her vision and reality, her mind. The last thing she remembered was reaching that beautiful place with the flowing water. Miriam. She opened her mouth to speak, but chose to survey their surroundings instead. There was a rope on her waist, and there was an arm around it, too – Vaan! – Penelo started, but kept her surprise bound to her face. There was a rope on Vaan too, and Anya beside her, and far to their right Basch and Balthier had just been loosened from their binds and were looking around in confusion, as she was.

Fran and Ashe had tied the rest of the party to ropes and on the Chocobo saddles, then woken the mounts altogether and pulled them to the entrance of the Stilshrine. There, the Kiltias guarding the door explained to Raithwall's descendant that the ancient magicks on the path gave those who found it a sense of buoyancy to the point that they no longer cared for the world outside or the temple beyond.

"Magick that masquerades as nothing," Balthier reflected, still wiping the back of his sleeves. He wished Ashe had woken both Fran and him so he wouldn't have been dragged across the floor and dirtied his sleeves. "The power goes to whoever can decipher Raithwall's secrets."

"Dangerous magick," Basch commented to the Kiltias. "What if innocent travelers stumble upon here and stay still for all eternity?"

"Not to worry," the Kiltias smiled. "We Kiltias here are unaffected by the magick of these ancient ruins by the blessing of the Gran Kiltias, and we make rounds every day to ensure that does not occur."

"Why didn't he give us the blessing?" Ashe asked, bitterness lacing her voice.

"The temple moved when you arrived," the Kiltias said, motioning to the tall doors, one of which was now slightly ajar. "You have His Grace's blessing. It was only a matter of fighting past the magick…a final test, if you will."

"Never mind about tests," Vaan frowned. "If there's magick like this, we could stop wars! Put Vayne in this place and let him starve."

"He doesn't deserve to simply starve to death," Anastacia mumbled.

"As appealing as that sounds, there would be the matter of bringing him here," Balthier interjected. "Or summoning ancient magick."

"Oh." Vaan scratched his head. "Right."

"Are there any more tests we should know about?" Penelo asked the three Kiltias guarding the door. "I don't really plan on starving to death…"

"None here," replied the leader, the only one who spoke. "But we do not know what lies inside. Have a care, Your Highnesses."

"Thank you," said Ashe, holding her ground as it shook while the guards pushed open the doors. The last time anything rumbled that way, Vossler was with them and she was truly dependent only on his support. Now she possessed…friends, and family. It was comforting.

The doors slammed shut when they stepped inside, where a great stone statue stretching from that floor to the lowest levels of the structure greeted them. Try as Vaan might, tiptoeing over the edge of the terrace leading out to the statue, he could not see what path lay past the statue's sword.

"Get down from there, Vaan," said Penelo, tugging at his vest. "You're turning out like Larsa."

Vaan turned at the sound of his name but ignored Penelo's gibe, his attention too busy with a small pedestal near the door. "Hey, what's this?"

"Vaan, no!" the others gasped in unison, their alarm echoing through the hall. Vaan froze, throwing his hands in the air and backing away.

On both sides of the hall were stairs leading downward, each with a door leading to opposite directions. Basch and Balthier tried a door each, but they wouldn't budge. Penelo and Anya found a way stone at the end of the hall behind the great statue, standing before intricate carvings of two Humes touching a great orange sphere – the Dawn Shard, Fran assumed. Only when Ashe passed Vaan, shaking her head as he continued to tempt himself by staring at the pedestal, did they find a new way.

"Hey, look—" Vaan glanced at Ashe behind him, already leaving, and back at the pedestal. "Hey, where'd it—Ashe, come back!"

Ashe patiently approached him. She felt somewhat guilty about yelling as they did earlier, but they were often attacked or led to harm's way whenever Vaan touched something without a thought. "What is it? Please don't touch anything, Vaan…"

"I know, I know," Vaan sighed. "But look! The pedestal – when you passed by, it said – it says, _Treaty-Seeker. Relic held, this pedestal embrace_. I think that means something."

"Certainly," Ashe agreed, and gave Vaan a pat on the back. "Good work, Vaan."

Vaan rubbed a finger under his nose and grinned. "Hey, guys, look! We found something!"

Ashe held the relic, the Dawn Shard, close as the party surrounded the pedestal. "I should touch it while holding the Stone."

"Indeed," said Anastacia. The great statue's eyes glowed a royal violet, and then the world was engulfed by a blinding white light.

**XIIXIIXII**

There was no time to gather their wits about them. As soon as the light disappeared, a human stone statue resembling the enthroned from outside the temple came to life, walking and attempting to step on them.

"What is—?" Basch cut himself off and pushed Penelo out of the way as the Miriam guardian swung a sword in between them. It had a tail, he realized, though its significance he could not tell.

Vaan drew his sword and hit the statue, but the stone didn't budge and his actions only provoked the guardian into swinging its stone axe at him. Ashe pulled him to safety. Finally, the guardian stopped. Crossing its arms over its chest again, it fell before her on one knee and knelt, before ceasing its movements altogether. It was the Dawn Shard's power, and in Ashe's hand the Stone hummed slightly, as though reveling in its newfound strength, Mist or not.

Anastacia neared the statue slowly. When she was certain it wouldn't move, she tapped the side of its head and sighed in relief. "Given everything we've been through, is it odd that this still surprises me?"

"Not at all," Penelo answered, staying far away from the statue as possible. She had always hated statues, feeling as though they were watching her every move, so it frightened her that there existed magick, ancient or not, that could give such a haunting thing _life_.

"This would be much easier with a map," Balthier frowned, taking in their surroundings. They stood in an enclosed hall with a light at the end. He saw creatures moving about inside that area, but he wasn't about to rush in without knowing where he was.

"Ah." Basch approached Ashe. "If the Nabradian crest carried the map to Raithwall's Tomb, should the Dalmascan crest not reveal to us one more Galtean structure?"

"Right." Ashe took something from her pocket and handed it over to Fran. It was her own necklace, her House crest. "I…had sworn not to wear it again until I freed Dalmasca."

Fran nodded in understanding and turned it over on her palm carefully. She recognized the Way Stone markers and what she now understood was the pedestal marker, which Ashe had recently touched. A large circle carved into the center of the pendant represented the great stone statue, and around that circle were three triangles equidistant from the statue and each other, each with some sort of arrow pointing to the statue.

"Well, where are we?" asked Vaan.

Fran traced a lightly carved line curving from the pedestal into a group of deep lines representing halls away from the center map of the pendant, glancing up for a second to see if the next area coincided with the pendant carving. "Here," she said. "We go forward. 'Tis the only way."

The next area was filled with Bagoly-like creatures, only instead of feathered wings they possessed scales, and had draconian snouts instead of birdbeaks. Penelo was grateful that the room was almost as thick with Mist as Raithwall's Tomb, so the party's magick-users channeled their energies into creating one big Blizzard spell (Blizarra by Fran, and Blizzaga on Penelo's part, but Ashe and Anastacia could perform only the basic one). The creatures were frozen, reminding Vaan of the Archadians on the Leviathan, and he enjoyed causing them to shatter like the sensitive glasses in Migelo's sundry shop.

Suffice to say, the Stilshrine of Miriam was filled with even more surprising enemies than a demon wall. Once the area was clear of the creatures (Balthier thought they resembled dragons more like Bagolies), two Hume-sized _faces_ broke free of the arch leading into another hallway and attacked them. The simple solution was the Dawn Shard, however, and the party soon discovered that all stone guardians bowed before the Stone, which hummed pleasantly at its show of power, while fleshy monsters attacked them whether or not they possessed it.

The Stilshrine was much more complicated than the Raithwall's Tomb, though splitting up as they had in the first ancient structure was unnecessary and ill-advised, as there were so many undead and unfathomable monsters that they hadn't even imagined existed before those moments when they were plunged into battle that were they not the seven they were, one of them might have fallen.

The three squares on Ashe's pendant were three warrior statues (unmoving, but one could move them) meant to be manipulated on their bases so as to face the greater statue at the front of the hall. It took all of Balthier, Basch and Vaan's strength to push the bases, but once the last warrior faced the great statue, there was a great rumbling that shook the entire Stilshrine.

"Come!" Fran called, leading them back to the main entrance while the temple shook. The great statue was lifting the sword which had earlier blocked their way.

The party maneuvered back to the edge of the great sword. A clear path lay before them, going up an imposing set of stairs towards another door. Ashe held the Dawn Shard close to it and read, "Wisdom proven, assay now your power."

"We are close to the Sword," Fran said, showing her the pendant. "This cross symbol; the Sword, I believe, lies beyond this chamber."

"Assay now your power," Penelo repeated. "Does that mean what I think…?"

"We're not getting closer to the Sword this way," Balthier remarked, readying his weapon and motioning for them all to do the same. "Let's go."

"Wait," Ashe said, stopping Balthier and Basch from pushing the doors open. She gave Anastacia a worried expression. "Can you feel that?"

"Familiar," Anastacia remarked, "almost nostalgic."

"That cannot be," said Basch, tracing the markings on the door. Even in Raithwall's Tomb there was nothing like this. "We are the first to come this far."

"True," Balthier said, and pushed the door open just as Belias's voice boomed, "_MY LIEGE—_"

A piercing shriek greeted them as they entered, and there was no time for Vaan to comment that they could at least run out of the room because the doors had already slammed shut, and no time for him to point out that this always seemed to happen, because the monster had already attacked them.

Had they time to notice the monster, they would realize that it was a woman, or something holding a woman. She was blue, her eyes shielded by some sort of helmet, and her wrists were bound and raised over her head. There were no lower limbs on her; she possessed instead a fishlike tail. On her outer body there were two more arms, but unlike Belias she had no other face, and on one outer hand she wielded a glowing blue trident that she swung at them, and it felt like their bones were turning to ice from the inside out—

A refreshing breath of fire invited the party to open their eyes. Belias had met its icy trident with his flaming sword, his hair whipping out and lashing at the monster, who seemed to weaken and back away.

"Ashe! Anya!" Penelo gasped, turning her eyes away from the two beings clashing swords. The two princesses were writhing on the floor, gasping airily as though choking, their eyes wide and staring into nothingness. The young mage attempted all the White magick she knew, but they wouldn't stop writhing, even with the rest of the party holding them down.

"_FORGIVE ME, I HAD NO CHOICE,_" the familiar voice of Belias boomed as both his heads turned back to glance at the spectacle. He returned to the battle, pushing his sword against the monster's trident. "_MATEUS,_" he called the monster. "_STOP THIS AT ONCE!_"

The monster wouldn't listen, blinded by its own rage. Its female mouth shrieked, diving for him another time, but Belias jumped and spun his staff in the air before throwing it into the ground below Mateus. It appeared to crack the ground and tear open a crevice right into the fiery depths of hell. The flames ate at Mateus, hissing and biting. Finally, a deep cry resounded from the monster, and the crevice closed on itself. Mateus before dropping its trident and falling to its knees.

"_COME TO YOUR SENSES, FRIEND. I HAVE LITTLE TIME,_" Belias pleaded.

"_IS THAT YOU, BELIAS?_" asked Mateus, tail still flickering with fire. It was a man, or something like it, as Belias was. The woman bound to him was silent. "_WHEN I LEARNED OF…YOUR SUBMISSION TO THEIR DYNAST-KING, I…THOUGHT TO SEEK YOU. I DID NOT IMAGINE…YOU WOULD FIND ME INSTEAD_."

"_WE SHALL SPEAK LATER,_" Belias insisted. "_SUBMISSION IS KEY TO SURVIVAL, MATEUS. THUS WAS OUR PUNISHMENT. NOW, CHOOSE A GLYPH BEARER._"

"_VERY WELL_," said Mateus, sounding very fatigued. The flames that woke him to his senses had severely injured him. Belias stepped aside so he might look upon the Humes and one Viera. As an Esper he could see into their hearts, see their desires and secrets and hide them just as well, and he knew which of them he wanted to serve for as long as he lived as soon as his gaze fell on her.

"_YOU_." He floated above Penelo, still attempting to help Ashe and Anya with Fran despite the commotion the Espers were causing. The two had calmed down now, but they still gave involuntary gasps that might be their last.

"Me…?" Penelo squeaked. Vaan moved to stand and shield her, but Balthier pulled him down.

"_YOU MUST HAVE BEEN DESCENDED FROM THE GODDESS…_" Mateus reached an outer hand, but Penelo flinched. He understood the fragility of Humes and withdrew it, still continuing. "_YOU ARE LIKE HER IN FACE, AND IN EVERY MANNER. YOU, TOO, POSSESS AVARICE…BUT IT WOULD NEVER CONSUME YOU. FROM THIS MOMENT, I SHALL SERVE YOU FOR AS LONG AS YOU WISH._"

Penelo watched in awe as Mateus started to chip away, his broken parts shining blue and violet, spinning around her in a gust of freezing wind before forming a glyph in the air before her, encased in precious glass, spinning and spinning until Penelo felt she was spinning and it all stopped.

Ashe and Anya came to their senses, breathing heavily as though they had been close to death. They had.

"_FORGIVE ME, MY LIEGES_," Belias said to them. "_MATEUS NEEDED MY GUIDANCE. WHEN A YOUNG ESPER LIKE HIMSELF…LIKE MYSELF HAS LONG GONE WITHOUT A MASTER…IT IS DIFFICULT. WE ARE MEANT FOR SERVITUDE. BUT FOR A GOOD PEOPLE, AS YOU ARE. PLEASE, FORGIVE ME_."

"No harm done," Anya coughed out with Fran supporting her back, though she felt as though her soul had been ripped out and stuffed back in forcibly.

"Yes, you did what was needed to save us all," Ashe agreed, pressing down on her chest where her heart was. There was a mild pain close to it, like a dagger had been this close to carving it out.

Penelo raised her wrist into the air and marveled at the tattoo inscribed on it. The glyph of Mateus. "Wow…"

"_USE MY POWER HOWEVER YOU WISH, MISTRESS_," Mateus's soft voice rippled, whole again now that he was bound to a master, worlds unlike Belias's rumbling tone. "_I AM YOURS FOR ALL ETERNITY_."

"Umm…thanks," said Penelo, smiling rather uneasily. She was hardly accustomed to having a servant, much less an _esper_.

"Quite a companion you have there," Balthier remarked. "Can he assure us that up ahead is the Sword of Kings?"

Penelo stroke a thumb over the glyph. "Mateus?"

"_YEARS…I SUPPOSE, MANY YEARS…AGO, I SEARCHED FOR BELIAS_," he answered. Although she couldn't see him, she felt inclined to look at Ashe and Anya as though he'd motioned to them."_I HEARD WHISPERINGS OF A GIGAS BOUND TO THE DYNAST-KING, AND SO I TRAVELED HERE. A GREAT POWER SEALED ME IN THIS ROOM AT ONCE – ONE OF THOSE BLASTED DREAMSAGES – AND I COULD NEITHER RETRACE MY STEPS NOR GO FURTHER. WHEN YOU OPENED THE DOOR, I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE THE DREAMSAGE AGAIN. FORGIVE ME_. _BUT I KNOW NOTHING OF WHAT LIES BEYOND, SAVE THAT THE DREAMSAGE NAMED IT THE VAULT OF THE CHAMPION_."

"Another sword arm is appreciated, always," said Basch, reminding Balthier of Nalbina Fortress. Ashe pursed her lips quietly. "This way, Anya – Anastacia and Ashe may rest."

Balthier smirked. "So long as he's up to the fight."

"_UNDOUBTEDLY_," Mateus promised. "_SO LONG AS MY MISTRESS WISHES IT_."

"I, erm, do, of course," said Penelo. Vaan cringed inwardly. It was clear that Penelo was uncomfortable with all that power, and how Mateus compared her to a _goddess_. You didn't see Belias comparing Ashe or Anya to a Dynast-King…Queen. He would say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Fran gave him this look that said he should close it.

"_THEN WE MOVE FORWARD_," Belias announced. "_THE SWORD OF KINGS AWAITS._"

The party found itself in agreement, and the vault of the champion, as Mateus called it, was filled with pillars upon pillars upon pillars, to the point that Balthier wondered if it was another piece of illusionary ancient magick. Only one clear path lay ahead of them, up a steep flight of stairs reminiscent of Raithwall's Tomb. Blue lamps lit the stairwell, glowing and dimming, pulsing with life.

When they reached the top, Ashe let out a nervous breath. The Sword lay in wait among a bevy of gears, blue lights, and ancient writing, twisting and turning like a trap waiting to be sprung.

"How are we to…?"

"Look," said Vaan.

The Dawn Shard hummed again. The gears stopped, and the lamps and lights faded to almost black, leaving only a dim light as the last of the ancient magick surrounding the Sword faded, and the ancient artifact presented itself to its new possessor, slowly descending until Ashe met its hilt with her touch.

"Unh-!" The Sword lost its glow and Ashe stumbled forward, shocked by its sudden weight. The sword nearly dug into the floor.

"That'll be difficult to carry around," Penelo whispered to Anya. "The Dawn Shard is just as light as a normal Stone, but that one…"

Anya nodded in agreement. "I have a feeling I know who'll end up carrying it." She glanced at Basch, already carrying one of their item sacks.

"You should try it on the Dawn Shard," Vaan said to Ashe, stepping forward. She'd been staring at it for way too long already. "See if it can actually destroy Nethicite or not."

"What?" Ashe looked at him like he'd suggested she cut her own hand off.

"A keen thought, Vaan," said Basch. The rest joined him in watching her expectantly.

"He just may be on to something," Balthier added when he saw that she wouldn't budge. Here it was, the weapon to destroy all that had driven sanity from that man; all great things deserved a test run. Only the Strahl had been an exception, but circumstances had been dire then. He didn't understand what Ashe was doing. "The Dawn Shard's no use to us, after all."

Ashe stared at the nearly perfect sphere that was the Dawn Shard and set it down. She lifted the Sword, suddenly lighter, ready to strike, when the Stone hummed and illuminated with a different glow. "The Stone bleeds Mist…"

"It has been roused," Fran explained. Ashe's sudden reluctance gave even the Viera pause. The Dalmascan princess had been the most constant throughout their entire journey, the most focused, and now she wavered for a purpose she couldn't grasp. Everything had shifted when they met with the Gran Kiltias. Their party was changing, and it wasn't helped by Larsa's withdrawal. He had become a part of them already, somehow. "It fears the Sword."

If Ashe heard Fran, she gave no reply. A light had shone forth from the Stone, one she hadn't seen since Raithwall's Tomb. Rasler, but now she was dismayed to find he granted her no smile. He was disappointed, saddened, and it broke her heart that he should look upon her that way.

She cleaved down the Sword and hit only the ground.

"Ashelia?" Anya frowned.

"You missed," Vaan pointed out, scratching his chin more out of habit than a real itch. "By just a little."

"The Stone is quiet," Fran added. Curiouser and curiouser.

"This is the Sword," Ashe insisted, turning around with a steely look. Only she understood what warranted it. "The Nethicite Destroyer."

Balthier snorted. "Should it find its mark."

Ashe glanced away, comforted only by the last vision of Rasler's approving smile. As the party turned to leave, still somewhat frustrated, Ashe reached out for Vaan. Only he could be expected to understand her. And Anastacia – she had confessed to seeing him too, once, on the Cathedral. Could it have been that? But she seemed as bewildered as the rest – perhaps not.

"Tell me," she asked Vaan. Had it been anyone else, they would have recognized the desperation in her voice. "Did you see him again?"

"I didn't," he said almost apologetically. "Not even my brother. Not…anything."

**XIIXIIXII**

The Kiltias were upon them as soon as they exited.

"We had begun to worry at your long absence," said the leader, with a certain panic Basch had never heard from the holy people. "Return with all haste to holy Mount Bur-Omisace! We must remain here…"

The party exchanged glances and stepped out into the long path once more, hastily mounting their Chocobo. The Sword of Kings was light on Ashe's back, something she could only ascribe to ancient magick.

Fran had earlier been waiting for a thin blanket over the sun, but not this. Not again. Archadian ships swarmed the sky like noisy bats, another fleet to match that of the Leviathan's.

"The _Alexander_," Balthier recognized, if only to himself. "Zargabaath…"

"They aren't descending here," said Anya, craning her neck with the others to follow their path. "Where—?"

Fran felt the urge to look in the opposite direction and so found the answer. "Look!"

Far across the Stilshrine, a pillar of smoke ominously arose from Bur-Omisace.

There were no words exchanged; only the whipping of crops. Even the Chocobo felt ill at ease and traveled as fast as they could towards the source of the flame, and the Paramina Rift was as still and as quiet as ever.

There was no storm, as Fran had predicted. But dark clouds and a drizzle greeted the party as they neared the top of the mountain, and as it grew to a light rain, as if sent by the gods to rid them of the smoke and ash rising to the heavens, they came upon a sight that doused their own determination.

Basch dismounted first. He knelt before the corpse and closed the dead man's eyes, uttering prayers respectfully. He glanced back at the others after surveying the scattered path of dead Kiltias that led to Bur-Omisace. "Have they no fear of the gods…?

"Let's move," Balthier ordered, refusing to see any more Kiltias. It was why they kept to themselves, kept only to their small circle of a cast and made only acquaintances. To look upon their graying faces was a chore, something that struck a place he'd rather not think of, when he knew them.

The dead and injured consisted not only of Kiltias but of refugees. There was almost as many of them as there were pebbles in the Ozmone, here and everywhere, surrounded by sobbing relatives and friends running about in a chaos, taking their things, packing their tents, collecting their dead. A few Imperials were among the silent bodies, but they were paid little mind.

"Nethicite," Balthier swore as the party dissipated, thrown into the chaos as much as the refugees. They were attempting to help the injured as well as find their own friends. Harthas, Ieeha and Maurden, the Kiltias, Tanis. Adela Beivinn and her son. Al-Cid and Larsa. The stench of blood and burning tents and clothes and the rain invaded his nose. It was growing increasily harder to think. Bone thin from malnutrition, clearly a new refugee, a bloody-faced man limped to console a child sobbing over his mother. Balthier turned his eyes away and saw that he had somehow lost the others, save for Fran. "Wait—"

"No!" He could tell Anya's scream from anywhere. She knelt by the dragon head face, violently shaking a body beside a quiet boy no older than three. "Lady Beivinn! No…!"

Ashe was at her side immediately, her eyes visibly misting even in the rain. "Adela…"

Adela Beivinn lay still, her eyes almost empty. A bruise formed over her cheek, her blood staining the rock on which she rested her head. "Anastacia…forgive…"

"No," Anastacia cried, holding Marzen close as he only watched his mother, holding her hand, and shook her head. "You can't die, Lady Beivinn! You owe Nabradia! You can't die!"

Ashe shook silently beside her, mourning the loss of a beloved governess. The woman had been Rasler and Anastacia's, but even when they bullied and teased her, Adela was kind. It was true she betrayed Nabradia, caused its ruin, but they were past that now, as she had moved past Vossler's betrayal when he died. "We'll care for him, Adela," said Ashe. Her tears did not impede her speech. "Goodbye."

Adela inclined her head gratefully before taking a last look at Marzen. "Marzen…I'll love you always."

"Love you too, mama," said Marzen. He and his mother squeezed each other's hands before her grip fell limp. His lips shook, his nose growing red, but he didn't cry.

Basch emerged from the oblivious crowd all of a sudden, dragging Anastacia away from the body as Ashe carried Marzen and prayed for Adela. Fran and Balthier bowed their heads. And then, their names. Over the din of the wails of the crowd and the pouring rain, Vaan was calling to them.

"Guys!" he shouted, breathing heavily and sparing Adela a sorry glance as Ashe closed her eyes. Everyone was drenched, now, their clothes uncomfortable pasted to their skin. Nobody noticed. "There are still Kiltias in the temple grounds. Harthas was—Tanis is there, she—there's a Judge Magister there but he's injured—"

"What?" Balthier turned to Penelo fiercely. "What is he talking about?"

Though usually the voice of reason, Penelo was much more puzzling now, shaking in her boots like a drenched, frightened kitten. "They're not all dead, but there's a Judge Magister outside that Hall but the other's inside the Hall and Tanis is unconscious and she's – she's – and Harthas is there, he's just hovering and he couldn't do anything, even that Judge Magister couldn't do anything Balthier, what do we do!"

"Penelo." Fran gave her a sharp slap on the face. Penelo's frenzied expression became one of horror, and all she could do was cover her face and sob. Vaan offered a shoulder and she accepted his comfort.

"There's…" Vaan sighed, a hand over Penelo's back. In the face Peneo's weakness, he was suddenly calm. "Tanis tried to fight against them with the Kiltias. Harthas was saying something about her saving him…and about that Judge Magister lying there trying to stop the Judge Magister…We have to go."

"Come now," Basch said to Anastacia, shaking her to her senses as the others plowed on forward, though she had already stopped and stiffened at the mention of Judge Magisters. "The Gran Kiltias is in danger."

"Wait! What about Marzen?" Ashe asked, running to catch up with the party while covering the head of her young charge. The boy was still in her arms, silent as though under a spell. The only sign of life he gave her was his breathing, his wide open eyes, and his tight, shaking grip on her.

They hadn't thought it possible, but the temple grounds were in worse condition. Groups of Kiltias were sprawled out, forming semi-circles towards the Hall of the Light, like a gust of power had blasted through their ranks with wild ease. Off to the side, a Pandaemonium waited, floating but empty. Before the temple itself, injured Kiltias threw themselves over their dead and prayed incessantly, reciting memorized prayers that they wondered possessed any power still, prayers that ended in please, please, please, please….

Harthas was a heap of sobs on the ground, his niece's head propped up on his lap. She breathed but was unconscious, and blood seeped out from her bruised cheek. Her arms were limp, scathed, and her bloody axe was a little ways from her. From what they could gather from the old man, she had been out hunting for lunch with her Kiltias friends when the Archadians arrived.

"I'd…prayed she would not return," Harthas blubbered over Tanis's face. "But she did! She rescued me from that…from hell incarnate, and he punished her… That Judge, he tried – he saw reason – but this one was stronger, oh, Tanis!"

Fran shook her head with sympathy, attempting her best Curaga for the girl who'd served them a good meal. Balthier shared her sentiments, but he was curious about this other Judge – there were two in all their stories, and the first one finally caught his eye somewhere across Harthas, near a surprisingly large pile of Imperials. He wore familiar colors, hard, silver steel lined with red, and a helm whose horns he had once teased as two spouting ends of a double teapot. But that was when they were friends.

"Judge Magister Zargabaath," he mocked, crouching before the man. The Imperials beside him groaned, attempting to help him up out of respect. One of them was the captain of the remaining Pandaemonium, he noticed in recognition of the uniform his own friends once donned, but the man was injured as well. "What brought you here, you fool?"

Zargabaath moved not his head but a hand, as though to stop him from coming any closer. He hadn't thought it could be, and the disbelief engulfed his normally lackluster inflection. "Ffamran?"

"No." Balthier's voice cut clear and sharp through the heavy rain. "Who is in that Hall?"

"Bergan," Zargabaath struggled to speak. His lower abdomen wounded, the blood spreading over the mail like a disease. Balthier would remove his helmet and shame him, but for the sake of their old friendship, he did nothing. "I…tried to stop him."

"That isn't like you at all."

Zargabaath snorted through the pain. He had suffered worse in Nalbina, but he wondered why that didn't make this any less agonizing. "I know. I am cowardice. But that woman – defied him. When he set fire to their…homes. She…I thought I might…"

"Play the hero, like she did?" Balthier laughed. He was all bitterness. When he stopped, he wore a frown. That was familiar to Zargabaath. "Take that scow and get out of here."

"No, Bergan—"

"Leave," Balthier said, motioning to the remaining Pandaemonium Zargabaath had kept during his attempt to sway Bergan's will. He had never met the Judge, but by all accounts he was a power-hungry old fool like the rest of them.

"Balthier," called Basch, approaching the Archadians curiously. A Judge Magister – but not his brother. He knew his mask too well. "What is this? We must aid the Gran Kiltias."

"One moment." Balthier returned his gaze to Zargabaath. "You're weak. If our Captain isn't able to stop him, no one will – and you'll die."

"Your Captain…?" Zargabaath strained to gaze upon Basch. He had heard about Gabranth, but he hadn't been certain. "I see. Death – perhaps that is the way. The Empire's debts grow legion."

"Old news," Balthier muttered, rising to his feet. "Leave before the mountain decides what to do with you."

Basch stared at him as they walked away. He didn't think any Judge Magister should be allowed to escape as Balthier had let him, but if Balthier decided he wasn't worth their time, perhaps he was right. Pirate though he was, Anastacia trusted him, and to his credit, he had never led them astray. "Old friend?" he still asked.

"Something like that," Balthier shrugged and walked ahead, refusing to talk of the man any longer. When he reached the rest who'd converged before Harthas, he clapped his hands to gain their attention. "Penelo, you will remain here with Marzen. Tanis needs healing. We…" He stopped. Really, a sky pirate doing something valiant? He had always led Fran and Anya to the shadows. Never into the spotlight for something like this.

"We will face the Judge within the Hall," Basch announced for him. "We have no more time."

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